Broadening One's Horizons
by Ryuuko1
Summary: A plot device leaves Megatron and Sam in a situation they would do ANYTHING to reverse...
1. Awkward Situations

**Author**: I posted the first part of this on LJ and there were demands for me to continue, so it grew into this beginnings of a monster. Megatron and Sam are _not_ paired together. I'm sorry if it seems a little rushed...

**Disclaimer**: If I owned _Transformers_ I wouldn't be having the money trouble I do.

---

"Well…this is awkward…" Sam said slowly.

"YOU DON'T SAY SQUISHY!? YOU DON'T SAY!?" Megatron snarled.

"Hey! Who are _you_ calling squishy?!" Sam said indignantly, crossing his arms.

Megatron shook his head sharply, a growl bubbling out of his throat. "This is _absurd,"_ he groused, looking over at Sam.

"Hey! It's _totally_ not my fault!" the youth protested.

"How is it _not_? You pushed the button that plainly said in your _own Earth language_ 'Do Not Push'!" Megatron snapped.

"How the _hell_ was I supposed to know it was going to do...do..._this?!_ Why were you developing it anyway?!"

"_I_ wasn't," Megatron drawled. "This is, may I remind you, a _human_ base."

"An _abandoned_ human base."

"Perhaps for good reason," Megatron growled, "if they had such _ridiculous_ projects as _that_."

Sam put his head in his hands and winced at the unfamiliar structure. "Dude, I can't _believe_..."

Megatron snorted and shook his head. "Boy," he said sharply, getting Sam's attention. "You and I are going to have to work out something—_now—_because if we don't _you_ are going to end up _slagged_ and _I_ will be _stuck_ like _this_. And as neither of us desire that..."

"So, what are you suggesting? It's not like I _trust_ you or anything."

"And I happen to _hate_ you, insect," Megatron replied bitingly. "But I am _not_ remaining like this."

Both heads snapped up and around when they heard the sound of heavy, running footsteps and gunfire.

"Decide now, virus—will you work with me to remedy this or not?" Megatron asked quickly.  
Sam thought and sighed. "Fine. We'll work together. But only because there's no other option."

There was the briefest of hesitations before Sam knelt and extended an unfamiliar hand to Megatron, who stepped deftly into the palm.

"Hurry!" The Decepticon leader hissed, and Sam figured out quickly how to run, pounding—almost _literally—_down the hallway.

_This sucks. This sucks this sucks this SUCKS, _he thought heatedly. "Does your alt form have a cockpit or anything?"

Megatron shrugged. "There was never really any _need_, but one does exist."

"Flying will get us away faster." There was a loud crash and Sam felt dread slowly settle into him. "_Much_ faster."

They ran out into an large hangar, and Sam set Megatron down. "_How do I do this?!_" Sam nearly yelled, slightly panicked.

"It's instinctual. Just...try."

_What the hell does he mean _instinctual_?! How can turning into a ginormous jet-tank thingy be _instinctual?!

Sam was surprised when something banged into a sensitive area, provoking a growl of annoyance from him.

"Hurry up and take off! You don't want them wasting us, do you?" Megatron snarled.

"What do you mean?"

"You did it, _now go!_"

Sam was astonished to find that, yes, he _had_ managed to transform into his new-found alternate form. He mutely did as told, and soon enough he felt what it meant to truly fly. The wind whistled around his form, flowing into and out of crevices made to maximize the efficiency of flight, making drag nearly a passing thought. He pushed the speed he could find and only another sharp smack on a sensitive area made him slow down.

"Don't forget that your unfortunate passenger is not meant for much more than mach 2, worm," he heard Megatron say tightly.

Sam slowed down to a little over mach 1 and glided on the air currents near the tropopause, the scenery passing quickly beneath them.

"Where exactly are we headed?" Megatron drawled, flicking another area—this time it made Sam squirm because it tickled.

"Rockies!" Sam nearly squeaked. "It'll be harder to find us in a place where most cars and stuff have a hard time driving."

"Huh. Perhaps you are not quite as stupid as I have always thought."

"Assumptions make an ass out of you and me," Sam cheekily quoted, which earned him another swat in an unfortunately tender area. "WILL YOU STOP THAT?!" he snarled, a way of expressing that was eerily easy to do in his new form.

"Only when you stop needing it," Megatron replied smoothly.

Sam grumbled uncomplimentary things about his passenger, who merely laughed _at_ him.

Eventually, Sam spotted an uninhabited and probably inaccessible-except-by-air valley, changing course to it. He landed gracelessly, earning a snicker from Megatron, who got out once they had finished their semi-crash landing.

With a grumble and a thought, Sam found himself back in bi-pedal form, staring down at his former body.

_God, it's so weird being so damn big and knowing that there's an evil alien consciousness directing _my _body_._ I am never going to get used to looking _down_ and seeing _me.

There was a long silence before Sam broke it, speaking in a voice that was hateful to him: "So. What now?"

"Now, my dear child," Megatron said in _his_ voice—it was his, _Sam's,_ not _Megatron's—_with a small smirk flickering across the face of the body he should be in, "we figure out how to reverse the effects of that _idiotic_ machine."

–

"No."

"God _damn_ it, Megs! We have to be able to travel through _residential_ areas! I can't keep your usual form and do that!"

"WHAT DID YOU CALL ME, SCUM?!" Megatron snarled, fury vibrating in every line of his now-human body.

Sam was almost scared. But the fact that he was orders of magnitude taller than Megatron now was balm to his nerves.

"Megs. Why not? You call _me_ all kinds of derogatory nicknames."

"Because you deserve them," Megatron sneered. "And anyway, I'm of comparable size with Optimus, and you know what kind of ridiculous alternate form he has chosen. _Those_ are some of the largest vehicles on the road, and I refuse to take the same form as Prime."

Sam agreed on that point—he didn't want Megatron to have the same kind of form as Optimus. It would feel..._wrong._ Still, the _did_ have to get into residential areas...

"You have access to this world's wireless internet—start looking things up. If you choose a mini-van, I will make sure you get a tattoo or piercing somewhere awkward on this body," Megatron warned.

"How would you know about those?" Sam asked, frowning.

Megatron shrugged and tapped his temple, "There is some residual knowledge. That is why we're both able to move naturally. Imagine if we were starting from nothing."

Sam winced. "We wouldn't have gotten away, _that's_ for sure."

Megatron nodded sharply. "Do you know _anything_ about that base?"

Sam shook his head. "Nope. You?"

Megatron sighed. "No. So, if the eventual goal is to get back to our respective bodies, then we find out about that base, what that _thing_ was, why it was built, and who built it. From there, we question the builder and find out how to reverse its effect."

"You make it sound so _easy_," Sam groaned.

"Worm, you are now in the body of a robotic organism that has technology trillions of years beyond what your puny government has managed to come across—_hack the damn system,_" Megatron growled.

"_How_ do I do that?" Sam snapped back.

"Primus! Of _all_ the creatures in the entire _universe_..."

**Lord Megatron?**

Sam yelped and looked around quickly. Where had it come from?

**Lord Megatron, can you answer?**

"Are you hearing something?" Megatron asked sharply, pulling Sam's attention back to him. Sam nodded mutely.

Megatron sighed. "You're being contacted over a Decepticon frequency. Don't worry—they won't be able to track your signal nor will you be able to respond to their hails. Although I _do_ want to know what they say, just so we can keep up with what my minions are plotting."

"How'd you do—oh. You hitting me wasn't just to let out your aggravation, huh?"

Megatron smirked. "perhaps."

Sam snorted and shook his head. "Whatever. Look, Megs. If _I'm_ going to have to change this to blend in, we'll have to at least change _my—_your—appearance so that no-one'll be able to recognize you at a glance. Because you can damn well bet people will be on the look-out."

"So, what do you suggest? Certainly a change in clothes. What else?"

"Get some hair dye. Perhaps cosmetic contacts or glasses. NO tattoos or piercings or I will let _this_ body accumulate some rust."

Megatron sneered. "Very well. How do you suggest we get these?"

"I have enough money in my wallet, I think," Sam said with a slight shrug.

Megatron checked the jean's back pocket and came away with the small object. He opened it and flipped through it. "$50. What were you planning on buying?"

"Hey, a guy gets hungry!"

Megatron snorted but his stomach audibly growled the moment after Sam made that comment, which made Sam snicker. "First, though, we find a new alt form for you. Me. Whatever."

"For now, I'll settle for something aerial to get us out of here. Then, when we get over human settlement, we can decide on another form."

The two distantly heard the sound of a helicopter and Sam tensed before finding some crevise he could hide in that was against the dull stone, hoping that the sun wouldn't shine suspiciously against the metal of his body. Megatron had also ducked away, not wanting to be spotted either, although probably for different reasons than Sam.

The helicopter eventually came into view and Sam found himself almost single-mindedly focused on it. It was a search-and-rescue helicopter. Perhaps they were looking for him. Perhaps they were just making a sweep to make sure that no-one was stranded anywhere.

It would require a bit of shifting and manipulation, and he would be slightly more massive than a normal helicopter, but it _should_ work. It was aerial, it wouldn't be bothered because it was government aircraft, and seeing a helicopter passing over a residential area wasn't half so suspicious as having Megatron's base alt form doing so.

It came close enough that Sam, when stretching his senors (not that he had any idea _how_ he was doing that, he just _was_), was able to take in all the details of the helicopter—_all _of them, which was terrifying and fascinating to the human consciousness stuck in Megatron's body. Sam waited until he was sure the copter was out of range before letting the alterations that were waiting impatiently for him to let them just _happen_ take place. He felt his entire body rearrange itself, which was the strangest sensation _ever_.

He heard an annoyed squawk from Megatron, and ended up smirking at the Decepticon-turned-human who was glaring at him with hands planted firmly on his hips. "Well, I guess it could be worse," the Decepticon leader drawled, looking Sam over.

Sam gave him a vicious grin—still ridiculously easy to do, even with the change in appearance. "Oh, yeah. Think bright pink minivan."

Megatron obviously bristled which caused Sam to laugh. Sam's expression of mirth obviously put a damper on Megatron's temper. "Butterflies—sparkly ones—all down your spine," Megatron replied venomously.

_That_ stopped Sam, who glared at Megatron as fiercely as the Decepticon was doing to him. After a long moment of tense silence, Sam sighed gustily and folded into the helicopter. "Come on. Let's get out of here. The sooner I get my body back, the better."

"Seconded," Megatron replied and climbed in through the pilot's door, settling himself into the seat.

With a thought, Sam was airborne again. It was a little more difficult, considering he had a preconceived notion of how helicopters were supposed to move, but once Megatron had smacked him enough times and told him to trust his instincts and body, flying was once more effortless.

It was a rush to see the ground pass _beneath_ him, houses and buildings looking like toys you would use with a train set. He didn't think that he'd _ever _forget what it feels like to have the wind caress your body, to _know_ that through your own power you are gliding in and on an invisible fluid. It made his heart—spark?—soar.

"Do you ever get tired of this?" Sam asked Megatron.

"I know you just spoke to me, but it's too damn loud, so I put ear mufflers I found on. We can speak later, worm."

Sam's good humor was incapable of being broken, so he merely chuckled and continued his flight. His sensors were drawn time and again to various vehicles, but he continually dismissed them as being too small for his bulk. One _did_ eventually catch his sensors, though, that gave him pause.

It was of a decent size, and had accoutrements that would be useful in their quest for information. As he flew by he scanned the news van, keeping the information stored for later use. He flew beyond the small semi-country town that faded back into Rocky mountain scenery.

Eventually, Sam found a place to touch down, and Megatron stepped quickly out of the cockpit. Sam allowed the change to wash over him, Megatron still growling his disapproval. Sam had the feeling that would _always_ be his reaction until he was back in his body and able to chose his own alternate forms.

"What nonsense is _this_?" Megatron asked as Sam transformed into his bipedal form, taking a look at the new style he sported.

"It's a news truck. I made it generic news for the area, so it shouldn't be _entirely_ weird that we're out in the kinda-boondocks."

Megatron made a 'hmph' noise and shook his head. "Whatever you say, insect."

Sam snorted and folded back into his newest alt form. He popped open the door and Megatron sighed, getting into the driver's seat. "So. Where to?"

"I think Denver is the closest city. Let's head there."

"Why? Wouldn't it be best to _avoid_ human settlements so as to not be found out?"  
"Yeah, but human settlements also have a higher concentration of information gathering places." Sam paused. "And we can also get a disguise for you there."

Megatron sighed and settled back in the seat. "You _do_ know that I hate being beholden to your whims, right?"

"Oh, I get that feeling," Sam said smugly, which earned him a rap somewhere tender, making him growl in frustration. "How the _hell_ do you find those places?"

He could hear the smirk in Megatron's voice, "My dear child, I've been working with Cybertronians and their alt forms all my life—there are certain constants, no matter the form."

Sam grumbled, but soon got lost in driving.

It was _such_ a different perspective. He was also in _total_ control—even when he had driven a car that _wasn't_ sentient, there was always a feeling that he was disconnected from it. Now...as he _was_ the car...every single thing was under his command. It was...indescribable. The kind of control. The kind of _power_. To be able to manipulate everything to his liking, to...

Sam shook himself out of such thoughts, them making him uneasy. Thoughts like that probably led only bad places.

As could be evidenced by his passenger.

The highway was slightly trickier than the back roads. _Now_ he had to contend with other vehicles who were being driven by humans, not by themselves, and as humans could be distracted from what the car was doing...

_Jesus Christ, this is more than residual memory! This is residual _personality._ I am so damn fucked if this gets any worse._

Sam shook himself mentally and reasserted that he was Sam Witwicky, son of Judy and Ron Witwicky, college student, dating the hottest girl in the entire world with the coolest car _ever_. Who he was right now...was temporary. He was _not_ a Cybertronian, and most definitely _not a Decepticon_.

Getting into the heart of Denver, Sam pulled aside to a place where there were no meters and spoke to Megatron for the first time since they had begun driving. "See that store over there? K-mart?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Go in there, buy hair dye and a sweatshirt and underwear. Also sunglasses. The money should cover that, if you're frugal." Sam paused. "You probably should also get yourself something to eat and drink."

Megatron harrumphed, muttering something about Sam ordering _him_ around, but got out of the car and dodged traffic to the other side of the street, entering the store.

Sam sat next to the curb, watching traffic go by and thinking.

All in all, it was actually kind of _fun_ to be Cybertronian. It was a different way of looking at the world—hell, of just _experiencing_ it. If he wasn't stuck in _Megatron's_ body, he might actually be enjoying himself. As it was, knowing that someone who had tried to kill him—and succeeded once—was running around in his _true_ body was enough to make him want to be human again.

Well, that and Mikaela. He wanted to be able to hold her without her being _terrified_ of him.

And _that_ was the downside to his new body. He couldn't _interact_ with anyone. He was purely an observer, and it was driving him up a wall now that he wasn't moving.

The fact that he didn't know what Megatron was _doing_ was also worrisome. He could be up to anything—stealing stuff, being an obnoxious bastard, etc., etc. Sam sighed inwardly and went back to watching traffic, hoping to find something less conspicuous than a news van. He eventually found a _monster_ of an SUV (not a Hummer, thank god), but didn't change into it. While he would love to send Megatron into a panic, having a news van suddenly become something else while sitting innocently next to the curb _probably_ wasn't a good idea.

He spotted Megatron coming out of the store and was bemused and annoyed by the Decepticon's new appearance.

"God, I look so damn _emo_ with black hair," Sam commented once Megatron was safe in the driver's seat.

"Shut up, bug. This was the cheapest and fastest hair dye. Deal with it."

"At least the sunglasses are cool."

"I am glad you approve," Megatron drawled sarcastically. "I assume the sweatshirt is also to your liking?"

"Meh, not a color I would normally wear, but—"

Megatron sighed in a long-suffering manner, which made Sam snicker.

"Still, you could have picked a better vehicle..." Megatron murmured and ran his hands along the interior.

Sam squeaked in surprise. "Stop it! That tickles!"

Sam couldn't actually _see_ Megatron, but from how Megatron's touch became feather-light—which made matters worse—he would have bet money that the jerk was smirking.

"Hate you. Hate you hate you hate you _OH_ _GOD STOP!_"

Sam's entire frame shuddered and he took off quickly, slamming Megatron back in the seat while also giving passers-by an explanation for his sudden movement. He pulled back to the speed limit as they wound through the urban streets, his nerves still rattled. "Don't you ever—_ever—_do that again," he snarled at Megatron, who shifted in his seat enough to pull on the seatbelt.

"Why?" the Decepticon asked curiously.

"Just...just.._don't_," Sam growled. There was absolutely _no way_ he was going to tell the Decepticon sitting in him how _good_ that had felt, how it had sparked along his nerves—nerves?—in something really close to pleasure. He didn't want to be beholden to the forsaken creature in any way whatsoever.

Megatron made a kind of 'hmph' sound and settled into the seat.

"You do know I will find out eventually," Megatron pointed out.

Sam's voice was frigid when he replied, "No. You won't."

"Uh-huh," Megatron said softly, a kind of smug curiosity in his voice.

Sam sighed inwardly. Damn. He'd have to be even _more_ careful around the 'con now.

"Where are we headed?" Megatron asked.

Sam pulled into an ally and shifted to his new SUV form, which made Megatron yelp. "You could have warned me!"

"And ruin my fun? Fat chance."

Megatron snarled insults, which Sam pointedly ignored. "Okay, so, now that we're in Denver, we have access—_probably_—to resources that might help us figure out where to start. I kept the technology and stuff from the news van in the back. Maybe you can start working on it to find out things, since I have no idea how to use them."

Megatron snorted and unbuckled himself before moving into the back where aforementioned technology lay, the equipment enhanced by Sam's new nature, allowing the Decepticon manipulating the system to get into places no-one should be able to using only what was available.

–

Sam was woken from his doze by Megatron bashing a delicate area, making Sam jump and snarl. "Would you KNOCK THAT OFF?!"

"You weren't waking up. You have a _lot_ to learn about being a Decepticon."

"I. Am. _Not_. A. Decepticon!" Sam said slowly, heatedly.

"Of _course_ not," Megatron drawled. "Anyway. I have at least found _some_ information on the base itself. It was a former Air Force base, although the reason why it was put where it is is classified information. It was closed in the mid-1990s for, again, classified reasons. All personnel were either transferred to other bases or retired from military service with _very_ good retirement packages."

Megatron sighed. "I have managed to get a list of former employees, looked for a pattern, and have really found none—except that there was a slightly higher than normal concentration of research scientists."

"So, what? You think it was an R&D base?"

"Possibly. There is—"

"Um, Megatron," Sam cut in. "My sensors on going on the fritz. They're giving me tons of information that I can only barely understand."

"Bring it up on the computer screens."

It took a moment, but Sam figured out how to reroute and display what he was getting.

Megatron swore fluently. "We need to get out of here. _Now._"

"What? Why?"

"There are Autobots in the area. You don't want to get killed, right? Get out of this city. I'll navigate since you're still clueless."

Sam harrumphed but drew slowly out of his parking space and merged into traffic normally. There was no reason for him to _appear_ to be panicking, even though he was—a little. He didn't _know_ how to fight in Cybertronian form—hell, in _human_ form his policy was to book it rather than stick around to defend himself.

He felt a strange pressure on his processor and winced. "What're you doing, Megs?"

"Suppressing your Decepticon signature. It'll make it harder to pinpoint you if it's fainter. You might feel a little fuzzy, but deal with it, bitch."

"Fuck you, megs."

Sam was thinking quickly—he needed to lose the Autobots if he wanted to survive. However, going west was going towards his home and that might not be the best plan. On the other hand, going _east_ meant entering the central US, which was very flat and very sparsely populated, and surely meant that one of the faster 'bots would catch up to him.

Unless he took to the sky, that is. None of the Autobots could fly, as far as he knew. Still, he would be a clean shot in such flat land.

Very well. West it was. Back into the Rockies where most cars couldn't travel.

Sam somehow managed to call up a road map in his mind and took an exit that would take him west, back to the mountains.

"Why are we going to way we came?" Megatron asked sharply.

"Because it's a hard place for cars to follow, and if I recall the helicopter..."

"You can get places they can't. Perhaps you have better survival skills than I thought. Still, it's inglorious to run."

"I'd rather survive, thank you, and since I don't know _how_ to fight...well."

All sorts of warnings suddenly screamed through his consciousness, and Megatron took in a deep breath. "You might have to learn how to fight, worm. Two of the Autobots have honed in on your signature, and, trust me, they are bound to engage you."

Sam's thoughts were racing as he, too, caught the signatures of the two Autobots tailing him. A plan suddenly hit him and, low on options, he decided it was worth a shot. "Hey, Megs. I suggest you hold on because I'm going to try something reckless and stupid that might nonetheless end up in us getting away."

"Or get us killed."

"Well, one way or another. And at least this'll give you an adrenaline rush."

"Primus," Megatron half-growled. "Whatever. Just do it."

Sam floored it and accelerated to far too fast, weaving in and out of traffic until they came to a part of the highway that bridged over another.

_I hope this works. I reeeeally hope this works._

Sam figured out how to deploy his weapons and shot a gap in the side of the highway before driving out of it. He heard Megatron gasp as they dropped, and Sam quickly provoked the shift into his remembered helicopter form.

A second before they hit the road beneath them, Sam soared upward, the blades of his new body creating enough lift to take them up and away, soaring into the sky in a _controlled_ manner this time. Sam watched the ground, and two obviously annoyed vehicles returned the gaze, making him smirk inwardly.

"Don't you _ever_ do that again!" Megatron snarled breathlessly. There was no bite to the statement, though, and Sam could tell that his heart-rate was elevated more from excitement than fear.

"What? It was kinda fun, y'know."

Megatron sighed gustily and grumbled all sorts of insults that Sam ignored. "They were just going to attack me because I was a Decepticon, and not because of you, right?"

"See Decepticon—kill it. That's the primary code, much as the reverse it true for Autobots form the Decepticon standpoint. I'm actually surprised that you managed to override that programming."

"Whatevs. I bet I gave them quite the surprise."

"I bet," Megatron said dryly.

They flew in silence for a few moments before Sam said: "You were going to say something before the 'bots found us."

"Hm? Oh. Yes. I have located one of the research scientists. She lives in Santa Cruz, California. She was, apparently, the lead scientist, and might give us clues as to how to reverse the effects of this machine."

"Mm-hm," Sam murmured.

"California is a little ways away from Colorado, so be prepared for a ride. Go get some sleep or something."

"Or something," Megatron muttered in reply.

Sam felt Megatron move around, collecting what supplies came with the 'copter and, within a few minutes, Sam could tell from the former 'con's even breathing that he was asleep.

Sam sighed inwardly and began to explore the extent of his innate capabilities as a Cybertronian.

Sure, there was the ability to switch back and forth between forms. But there was also the capacity to store up to 5 different alt forms before one schematic had to be deleted (this was apparently a special skill that Megatron liked to keep hidden—most Cybertronians could only recall one alt form at a time). There was an array of sensors that he had no clue how to begin to use, and a few programs that baffled him.

One, though, caught his attention.

He poked at it and examined it for a while before executing it.

It was mildly disorienting, seeing the world from two different perspectives. Sam's new holoform turned and looked around the inside of the helicopter and saw Megatron sleeping with a medical blanket wrapped around his shoulders, stretched out across a few seats. Sam shook his head ruefully and turned to sit down in the pilot's seat, his hands resting lightly on the controls. At least _this_ way it wouldn't look like the helicopter was flying itself.

As he was flying along he caught sight of a flare, and two impulses warred briefly within him:

One was very much Decepticon, and urged him to ignore or slag the puny organics.

The other was very much human, and told him to go help whoever was there.

The human one won out, thankfully, and Sam turned towards the flare.

He approached slowly and landed a number of yards away so as to not hurt anyone in the party.

It was a group of mountain climbers, two of which were seriously injured. Sam made his newfound holoform exit his body and walk towards them, taking pains to leave tracks in the snow.

"Oh, _god_, I'm so glad someone saw our flare," one of the group said wearily. "We have two people injured..."

"Bring them in. You'll have to excuse the one other passenger I have, though," Sam said and lead them over to the helicopter, opening the side door. The two injured passengers were put in first, before the only mildly scratched ones stepped in. They were relieved to find an ample amount of medical supplies, which Sam smiled faintly at. "I'm going to head off to the nearest base. Are you capable of tending to their injuries alone?"

One of the people nodded. "We should be fine."

"Good," Sam said authoritatively and settled back in his seat, seeming to guide the helicopter back into the air while also looking up the location of the closest base. "How'd you guys get out here anyway?"

"There was an avalanche. The four of us were lucky—we managed to find shelter. There were two others in our party who weren't quite so lucky."

"I am sorry to hear that," Sam said softly.

"It's alright. What's your name, sir?"

Sam quickly ran through a list of search-and-rescue pilots in the area and settled on a name that made him snicker. "John Smith. I'm serious."

The group laughed tightly anyway, although a little of the tension faded. "Well, _Mr. Smith_, we're grateful for your help."

Sam snickered at the movie reference and concentrated on his flying. "It should be an hour until we get there. Try to find a few blankets and keep yourself from catching hypothermia."

He heard shuffling in the back and felt the two uninjured ones settle down once they had tended to their less fortunate comrades.

Sam's nerves spiked when Autobot signals came up on his sensors. Because they were flying to a station, it would only be prudent that they would be someplace that was accessible by car.

It appeared that what Sam had originally done as an act of charity now would save his life—he had _hostages._

_I must stop thinking like a Decepticon. I _must_ stop thinking like a Decepticon,_ he told himself over and over, but found he was having a hard time convincing himself.

Eventually, they came upon the station and Sam gently touched down, turning off his engines. He turned in his seat to his passengers and smiled faintly. "Here we are," he said and popped open the door.

Megatron awoke at the lack of movement, stood, and walked over to Sam, giving him a bleary look. "What's up?"

"Helped some people. Would take off, but the Autobots in the fringes tell me that's a _bad plan_. Keeping you with me, however, gives me the advantage of a potential hostage situation, which means they'll talk first and shoot later."

Megatron blinked, then smirked. "Now _that's_ thinking like a 'con."

"Shut it."

"Make me."

"Don't tempt me."

Megatron snorted and shook his head. "I'd really like to stay with you and keep you from being blown to tiny pieces by that warmonger of a weapons specialist, but I'm _really_ hungry and would appreciate some warmth." Megatron paused and fidgeted. "And a bathroom break."

Sam inclined his head towards the building. "I'm never going to stop you from doing something unless it seems like it'll be ridiculously stupid and get you killed."

Megatron paused. "They _shouldn't_ kill you in the open like this. And if they _do_ try..." Megatron trailed off and smirked. "I authorize you to use deadly force."

Sam rolled his eyes while Megatron laughed and jumped down from the platform and towards the building where there would hopefully be some respite from the cold and for his bladder.

Sam remained where he was. It was _difficult_, maintaining a corporeal holoform, so he let it disappear into the shadows of his alt form and returned all his consciousness to himself.

The return to himself made it shockingly apparent how outclassed he was. He heaved an inward groan at picking up Ratchet and Ironhide's signatures as well as the smaller ones of Arcee.

He could also feel another coming from farther down the road—one that was all too familiar.

Optimus.

All who were watching him were fairly all-terrain vehicles, and from what Sam could see, Arcee had taken on slightly different forms to be able to accommodate the treacherous conditions.

This...would be difficult. His voice was still Megatron's, even if his appearance no longer matched that of the Decepticon leader. He could _possibly_ reason with Optimus, but that was a long shot. Especially considering the Prime probably harbored some ill-will due to Megatron, well, offing him.

Sam hoped it didn't come down to a fight. He _really_ hoped it didn't come down to a fight, because his ass would be handed to him so damn fast if it did...

At one point, Megatron came out and stepped in through the side door. "Sam," he murmured so softly that only Sam was able to hear. "I'm going to sleep in _there_ because out here is fucking _cold_. If anything starts to happen, I will doubtlessly wake up—"

"You really don't know how being a teenage guy works."

Megatron sighed in exasperation. "I'm not _you_. _My_ consciousness resides _here_ and I've always been a light sleeper. If any battle begins, I will come out quickly. The Autobots probably won't hurt you if they see you with a human. Silly morals and all that."

"Shut up and go get sleep."

Megatron snickered and exited, walking back into the warm building.

Sam settled down to wait for when Optimus arrived, since he knew _that_ was when things would begin to get interesting.

Unfortunately, the wait was short.

The Autobot leader arrived, but everyone stayed in their alt forms until all the lights were out in the main building, save one small light burning on the watch-room, just in case any calls came in that required immediate attention.

Sam watched apprehensively as all the Autobots transformed, looking at him intently with brightly glowing blue optics.

He had no idea what to do, how to act. He was _human_, damnit not a _Decepticon_! He had spent all his time around Autobots, how was he supposed to behave like their _enemy_? Still...some part of him rebelled at being regarded so coldly, making him transform as well, even though it was probably a Bad Idea times 9000.

Almost unconsciously, his stance was proud, arrogant, and aggressive, making all present tense.

Still, when Sam made no action, Optimus cautiously stepped forward, blue optics meeting blood-red.

"It is strange for a Decepticon to help humans."

Sam found his mouth on autopilot, some kind of deranged instinct taking over: "Perhaps not so much for a Decepticon who doesn't wish to be slagged on sight," Sam drawled in the voice he hated. "And anyway, I have found that they can be..._useful_," he said, allowing the Autobots to draw their own conclusions about how a human would be useful to a Decepticon (even though Megatron was about as useful as fungus. No, scratch that—at least _some_ fungus could be eaten. Rust, then. As useful as rust. Which was much more appropriate for his current state of being).

_That_ caused them to tense even more, Ironhide's canons beginning to charge. Sam flashed the weapons specialist a grin full of smug bravado that he didn't feel. He knew that Ironhide had a short fuse, but that it _could_ be used to his advantage if played right.

Optimus's eyes narrowed, the disconnect of appearance and voice obviously baffling. "What is your designation?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Sam replied drolly.

"Answer him," Ironhide growled, making Sam smirk and cross his arms over his chest, his posture casually cocky.

"Why should I? Why would it matter? You're going to try to slag me anyway, whether you know my name or not."

"Damn right I will," Ironhide snarled and took a step forward, only restrained by Optimus's gesture. The Autobot leader gave him a curious, wary glance.

"You _sound_ familiar, but your appearance and spark-signature are unknown to me. It is no longer possible for new Cybertronians to be made. How do you exist?"

_So I don't feel like Megs, huh? Interesting..._

"I'm special," Sam replied sweetly.

"That's _enough—_"

"Try it, Autobot _scum._ Right there—_right there_, in that building—are quite a number of humans. My weapons are as deadly as yours, just as charged. I'd be able to kill them—_all _of them—before one shot of yours, Ironhide, even _scratches_ me."

_Damn. Hostage situation indeed._

"If I recall correctly," Sam continued, "you haven't announced our existence formally to the hive of humanity. If we wake those monkeys up, it's just more paperwork and headaches for you, even if _I_ don't get to them first."

It was easy. It was _too easy._ Alarmingly simple to slip into a completely brutal frame of mind, to taunt and tempt those before him into foolhardy action. Being a Decepticon was a release—no morals. Nothing to hold him back from descending into that dark space which was a siren song to all of humanity, but which most resisted because of societal expectations and constricting morals. It was a _relief_, in a twisted way.

The situation was a stalemate. He knew Optimus wouldn't risk the possibility of Sam murdering innocent civilians (even if one used to be a very not-innocent Decepticon). Sam, however, was completely bluffing—the thought of _killing_ anything made him nauseous.

The tense silence was broken by someone opening the front door of the building.

Sam nearly laughed when he saw Megatron come out, staggering underneath a pile of bedding and supplies.

"_A little help here?_" he snarled at Sam.

Sam _did_ snicker this time and knelt down, carefully picking off some of the heavy bedding.

"Jesus Christ, could you have waited any longer?" Megatron scolded Sam, who smirked.

Megatron caught sight of the other Autobots and raised his eyebrows before looking at Sam. "Friends of yours?"

"Not particularly," Sam drawled.

Megatron snorted and shook his head as he approached Sam, who placed the blankets down next to him and folded back into his helicopter form. Megatron threw everything in while Sam asked, "I thought you wanted to be warm."

"Yeah, but you don't snore like a fucking freight train," Megatron answered before climbing in and shutting the side door behind him. "That and I wanted to fuck with Optimus's head," Megatron said softly, voice carrying amusement through every syllable.

"If you don't mind, I have places to be," Sam said before taking off, all the Autobots watching, stunned, as he took off into the night.

Once they were far enough away to not be overheard, Megatron burst out laughing.

"Jesus, Sam, either that was the best acting _ever_ or you're taking to being a Decepticon like a fish to water."

"Hmph. And if _you_ haven't noticed, you've picked up a lot of human mannerisms."

"Unfortunately," Megatron replied caustically. There was an uneasy silence before he said, "It's...unnerving."

Sam would have nodded in agreement had he had the ability to do so. "I know. We _really_ need to find a way to reverse this, if things have gone downhill this fast after just a little more than a day in the other's body."

Megatron sighed and set up his sleeping place. "Before we become Sam the Decepticon and Megtron the human."

The very thought was terrifying, and they flew through the night without another word.


	2. Santa Cruz

**Author**: I am utterly baffled and flattered by the overwhelming positive response I have received for this fic. Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited, and alerted. You make my writing worthwhile.

**Disclaimer**: None of this belongs to me. Alas.

---

"I still say you should've turned left."

"_Who's the one with the super-advanced GPS system?!_"

"You are _now_, but I _was_. I have a better sense of direction than you ever will."

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Do not."

"I _totally_ do."

"_No_, you don't."

It appeared that Megatron was going to continue the rather undignified argument when there was a loud _bang_, making both Sam and Megatron start. It took a moment for the pain to register on Sam, who swerved when it finally hit him.

"Son of a _bitch_," Sam swore as pulled over to the side of the road.

"What? What happened?" Megatron asked, sadistically curious.

Sam, somehow, managed to run a diagnostic on himself, and groaned when the results came back. "Damnit. A flat."

"What?" Megatron asked and opened the driver-side door, stepping out. He knelt down, examining the flat tire as Sam was grumbling obscenities.

"Stop being such a fucking baby," Megatron chided.

"Have _you_ ever had a flat tire? No. This _hurts_. It's like...getting a splinter in your foot."

"Well, thankfully, your natural healing capabilities should take care of it in about an hour."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Hey, you can't always have a medic around and dents and scratches are bound to happen in day-to-day living. As your bodies heal naturally, so do ours."

Sam made a noncommittal sound as Megatron stood up and looked around. "Thankfully, we're almost to civilization. Think you can get us there? Then you can find an out-of-the-way place to pass out while I do some information gathering."

"I _guess_ that'd work," Sam grumbled as Megatron laughed and climbed back into the driver's seat. Once they had gotten to drivable country, Sam had landed and folded into his car form, preferring to drive than fly (which Megatron was unable to understand).

The truth was, Sam wasn't sure either, but he would hazard that he _knew_ how to drive when human, so it felt most natural to him in this form as well.

With a sigh, Sam started the trip again, wincing at each revolution of his wheel. It really _was_ like getting something lodged in your foot and not being able to pick it out to ease the pain. Still, Megs was right—it would be best to get to civilization so Megatron could do some digging while Sam rested, and he _needed_ to rest. He had been going on very little, so having some time to recharge would be a wonderful thing.

At least the scenery was beautiful, even if the company was irksome.

"How much longer?" Megatron half-whined.

"Much longer if I toss you out and make you walk," Sam growled in reply, which, inexplicably, made Megatron snicker.

"You're not Decepticon enough to," Megatron challenged.

Sam sighed. He was right. "Still."

Sam knew Megatron was smirking—it was just a feeling, but probably a correct one. "So," Megatron started, "Enlighten me as to how I should behave when surrounded by your kind—I don't want it to be _too_ obvious that I'm a stranger in a strange land."

Sam hesitated. "You're actually doing a good job already. Even spending a little time around those other humans has made you...more human."

Megatron scoffed, the sound more distaste than anything else. "Human. The great Megatron is becoming _human._ Bah. An illusion, a trick, I can deal with—_pretending_ to be human to get what I desire. But actually _being_ human...disgusting."

"As if I like being a Decepticon any more than you do being a human," Sam snapped back.

"I don't know," Megatron said thoughtfully, "you seem to be taking to it quite easily. Funny for someone who spends his time around Autobots." There was an uncomfortable pause before Megatron continued: "Then again, you weren't adverse to killing me—no matter how you may justify it to yourself, you _did_ commit murder."

"To save the lives of thousands of others! You would have killed the 'bots and enslaved or eradicated humanity!"

Megatron chuckled darkly. "Whatever you say, _parasite_."

Sam bristled and took a turn a little too hard, resulting in Megatron slamming against the door.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" he snarled and kicked Sam in a tender spot.

"STOP THAT!" Sam snarled back.

For a while, there was a angry, simmering silence as the two drove through redwood forests and beside picturesque valleys.

It was Sam who relented first. "Look, Megs," he said as he turned onto an off-ramp towards Santa Cruz. "I hate you. You hate me. But somehow we have to find a way to co-operate."

"Agreed," Megatron replied succinctly.

Sam sighed. "To get our bodies back."

"To be returned to my rightful form, I'll work alongside you, worm. But after that..."

"All bets are off, I know."

Somehow, that broke the tension, and the rest of the ride passed in strangely companionable silence.

**--**

"Wakey wakey Sammy," a voice crooned to him, laden with false sugary sweetness.

Sam groaned. "I think I liked it better when you hit me to wake me up," he said as his sensors turned on.

The Decepticon that currently inhabited his body gave him a smirk and lightly patted the door to the driver's side, which Sam opened.

"So, what've you found?" Sam asked once Megatron was settled in the driver's seat.

"Not as much as I would like. I found where our scientist lives and works—she's a professor of physics at UCSC and lives not far from the campus itself. She's the mother of two from a prior marriage and is now living with another female...although rumors have it that they're not just _living_ together, wink wink nudge nudge."

Sam snickered. "We have to find a way to speak to her, but close to me. I can't...the corporeal holoform can't travel all that far, even though I _could_ project just the _image_ pretty far..."

Megatron nodded slightly. "The meeting will have to be close to you. It's not as if you can transform in front of her."

"I dunno, I think a physicist might take it all in stride," Sam said wryly.

"Perhaps," Megatron said, leaning back. There was an oddly comfortable pause before Megatron spoke again: "You know, it's kinda weird that we haven't run across any more 'bots. You'd think they'd be on the watch for you."

Sam's holoform materialized in the passenger seat, and shrugged. "Frankly, I'll take what blessings I can get."

"Seconded. Still...how do we approach her?"

"An even better question is how we approach the question we need to ask her. I mean, we're talking about classified government research blah-di-blah. She might be sworn to secrecy or something."

Megatron snorted. "You can get _anyone_ to talk if you have the right leverage."

"We are _not_ kidnapping her family."

"Aw, you were willing to use hostages before."

"To save my life. And that was all bluff."

Megatron shrugged. "Whatever. There are other ways of getting someone to co-operate."

"Physical and mental harm is a no-no."

"Damn, you're ruining all my fun. You _have_ to act like a Decepticon in this case. Otherwise...well, we might be stuck this way forever, and you don't want _that_, right?"

"Mental _harm_ is bad. Mental _manipulation_...not so much."

"_That's_ the spirit," Megatron said smugly. "You'll have to let me do it, though—you have your reservations about wrapping people around your fingers. I don't."

"I know," Sam said tiredly, making Megatron snicker. "What else have you gotten?"

"That this place is so hippie it's making me almost physically ill. 'Organic' food? _Everything_ that you consume is made of organic molecules—"

"That's not what they mean."

"Then what _do_ they mean?"

"That the food is grown without pesticides and stuff. It's 'all natural'."

"That's dumb. Food is food."

"Don't tell _them_ that."

Megatron snorted and shook his head. "Whatever."

Sam's holoform frowned and he concentrated on a weak signal he was getting on the edges of his consciousness.

"What's wrong?"

"I think I sense a Cybertronian. They're right on the edge of my perception, though, so I can't tell you if it's a 'con or a 'bot."

"Either way means bad things for us. Guess you'll have to keep an even lower profile."

Sam sighed. "All this secrecy is driving me _nuts_."

Megatron nodded, "Agreed. Very heartily agreed. Neither you nor I are much for skulking around. Rather just confront the problem and..." Megatron trailed off as they passed a quintet of lovely young women.

"Pay attention Megs. I already have a girlfriend," Sam rebuked.

"Shut it, plague. I'm allowed to appreciate physical beauty."

"Not many girls get hotter than Mikaela."

"I haven't actually _seen_ her from your perspective, so I wouldn't really know."

Sam snickered and looked out at the surrounding area. "I _really_ wish I could go and walk around. It's one thing to drive everywhere, but I can't check out the stores..."

"You can just shop online."

"That's _different,_ Megs, and you know it."

"Whatever, worm."

Seeking to change the topic, Sam commented"The dye is coming out of your hair," which made Megatron look at himself in the mirror. "You should probably get a different color," Sam continued. "Heh...I'd like to see you with bleached hair."

Megatron snerked and looked at Sam. "I suppose it would be _interesting_...although probably not _advisable._"

"I certainly wouldn't look like me."

"True," Megatron conceded.

Sam fiddled with his sensors, trying to get a read on the Cybertronian on the edges of his consciousness, but the signature remained damnably elusive. Giving up, he brought his sensors back to their comfort range and turned to Megatron. "Still have to get that plan together."

"Can you enroll me?"

"At UCSC? I'm sure we can hack the system, why?"  
"Because I'd like to get into her class."

"It's pretty far into the semester. Maybe you can attend a class, claiming that you are a prospective student."

"A what?"

"You're looking at colleges to decide where to apply."

"Ah. I see. And I can do that?"

"UCSC is a state school—it's entirely probable that no-one will notice you if you sit in the back."

Megatron made a thoughtful noise and crossed his arms. "And then afterwards I can approach her."  
"Check out her schedule first. It's possible that she has a class right afterwards. You want to catch her when she has time to chat. Maybe you can arrange a further meeting, if you're charming and convincing enough."

"How do you think I brought so many Cybertronians over to my cause? I'm quite charismatic, thank you."

"Whatevs, Megs."

"Quiet, pest." Megatron paused and thought. "Perhaps...I can arrange a meeting at an outside restaurant or cafe. That was you could park nearby and join us."

Sam nodded slowly. "That would work. This plan hinges entirely on your ability to charm her while not appearing to have alternate motives."

"Yeah...that'll be the hard part. Can't seem stalker-ish."

"That'd be a bad move." Sam agreed before he looked hard at Megatron. "The real question is—can I trust you?"

"For now," Megatron said as he tilted his head slightly in concession.

"Of course. What classes does she teach?"

"Huh? Oh..." Megatron paused and thought. "I didn't really look. I think I remember seeing an introductory physics course in there, though."

"Attend that one, then. It'd make the most sense."

"Yeah," Megatron murmured and leaned back, obviously lost in thought.

Sam sighed and fiddled with the GPS system on his dashboard until it picked up satellite television channels instead.

Sam blinked and his jaw dropped. "Oh. Oh no. Oh no no no no."

Megatron looked over sharply. "What? What's wrong?"

Sam pointed at the screen. "The existence of the Autobots and Decepticons have been announced. It's now possible for local and state authorities to go after a Decepticon if they come across one. The symbol and descriptions of all the known Decepticons have been released...ah, shit."

"They have a picture of your helicopter form, don't they?" Megatron asked, amused.

"Yeah," Sam replied wearily. "Thankfully, they don't have the news van or this one. There's enough vehicles of this color and make that, as long as a Decepticon symbol isn't displayed, no-one can go after me."

"Oh, hey, look—I'm mentioned, too." Megatron paused, then laughed. "As your hostage!" he half-crowed.

Sam sighed and looked at the screen and the loop of the report, the reporter obviously bewildered, even though Optimus himself made an appearance, the Autobot leader having explained the events of Mission City and Egypt and The Fallen.

Sam whistled softly "Damn. It's like I'm on the World's Most Wanted list."

"You kinda are," Megatron snickered. "But, _damn_. More skulking." Megatron paused. "And you have to change the appearance of your holoform."

"Yeah...that'd be a good idea," Sam admitted. With a bit of effort, he pushed some code around until he reached something he liked.

"Yeah," Megatron said, laughter in his voice, "I don't think anyone's going to be looking for _that_."

Sam's new, fifty-something holoform grinned. "Damn straight they won't," he said, altering his voice slightly to match his appearance.

"So, what? You're going to be my dad? Talk about a reversal."

"Yeah, you're millions of years older than I am and yet I'm pretending to be older."

"Good luck," Megatron drawled.

Sam shrugged. "I'll figure out a way to make it work. I guess I can say I'm young at heart."

Megatron rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

The two fell silent, watching the news report one more time before Sam turned it back to GPS. "Well. Let's find out when she teaches that intro course and then we can set our plan into motion."

–

"Be careful," Sam warned for the thousandth time.

Megatron, for the thousandth time, waved his concern away. "I'll be _fine_. You just make sure you don't get into trouble, considering I look nothing like that picture they broadcasted."  
Which was true. Megatron had bought—well, conned—cosmetic contacts and new clothing. He had bleached his hair and styled it radically different. There was nothing about him that remotely resembled "Sam Witwicky."

Still, Sam worried. He supposed he always would, no matter his form.

"I'm gonna believe you, as stupid as that is," Sam replied and popped open the passenger-side door.

Megatron smirked and gave Sam a mocking salute. "Thanks, _dad_," he drawled and stepped out, bringing a backpack along with him (which was as much an accessory as the magnetic earring on one ear, which made Sam inwardly wince).

Sam closed the door and watched Megatron walk away, a sigh escaping his lips once more. He switched his holoform to image only and drove away, heading back into Santa Cruz town.

The Decepticon in him was rebelling against the need to lie low, even though his human part was grateful for it. He would hate explaining his situation—if he even _got_ a chance to explain. From how much they had vilified—correctly—the Decepticons, Sam figured it would be very hazardous to his health to even give a _suspicion_ of being more than meets the eye.

Megatron had also conned a cell phone and Sam had set up a number for himself, so that when Megatron needed him they could contact each other effortlessly; because of that, Sam figured that it would be okay for him to just...go for a drive. Santa Cruz was in a relatively scenic area, so it was worth exploring, even if he couldn't get some places.

First, though, he was running low on energy. Megatron had told him that the best way to get it back was to have something called 'energon', but that they had found that human fuel worked well enough. So, he was going to go to a gas station and pick up $20 in premium, since that was all the money he had left. It was also harder to con people out of gas than other things, so...

Sam pulled up to a local gas station and turned off his engine. His holoform stepped out after opening the door to the gas port. He was figuring out the self-serve when he felt angry eyes on him. He turned and looked at a couple who was giving him dark glares from the next pump.

"What?" he asked, annoyed.

"How can you drive something like _that_?"

"Drive wha...oh, you mean this?" he asked and jerked him thumb to his alt form. "It's a smooth enough ride and it's an automatic so I don't have to think that hard."

"No! That's not it! How can you casually use so much _gas_?! Don't you know you're contributing to the deterioration of our planet?"

Sam sighed. "Look, I get good enough gas milage. I rarely have to fill my tank." _If at all._

"I know that model—it's a gas guzzler," the man insisted.

Sam rolled his eyes. "I fiddled with it. It gets better highway _and_ city milage than any of the hybrids on the market."

The two blanched. "How is that _possible_?"

"I'm a _really_ good mechanic," Sam drawled. "And no, I will not work on your "green" car," he finished. He was all for helping the environment and did his own part by recycling and using his own bags when he went food shopping. He just...didn't get the uber-environmentalists.

The Decepticon in him was reminding him how _easy_ it would be to just crush their car...and maybe their heads in the process. It would certainly stop them from annoying him.

It was tempting. It was _surprisingly_ tempting. Just transform and...

Sam shook himself out of it and finally finished figuring out the pump and stuck it in the gas port, sighing softly in relief once the couple had left.

The gas shut off and he put the nozzle back on its hook, twisting the cap covering in place and closing the door before opening the driver-side door and stepping in, engaging his engine again. He pulled away from the gas station and groaned, sitting back in the seat. He let his form fade into just an image and drove—that was it. Just drove. He found back roads and traveled along them, not particularly caring what he was passing—just that he was moving.

He just had so much on his mind. Every passing moment—_every_ passing moment—he lost a little more of his humanity. He wasn't sure how Megatron was faring, since the creature had always been impenetrable and confusing, but...from the little tics he picked up after spending just a small amount of time around the rest of humanity, Sam got the sinking feeling that he was experiencing exactly the same thing.

It was horrible. Sam didn't _want_ to be a _Decepticon_, just as he felt Megatron didn't _want_ to be _human_. It went...it went against everything that they _were_.

Or, perhaps more accurately, everything that they _had been._

Sam shook his head and watched the scenery pass by, he turning on the radio to listen to whatever music station he might come across. However, the music that normally soothed his nerves merely reminded him of Bumblebee, which produced an unexpected spike of pure _hatred_ in his core. He almost stopped dead at that feeling, and he grimaced inwardly.

Bad. Very, _very_ bad. If he was _hating_ his guardian...would there ever be turning back? Even once he was human again? Sam _knew_ that he would remember these emotions, these thoughts...how would he view the Autobots? Would he have a casual disdain, a simmering malignance towards them no matter what? Or would he recover his first impression...?

The uncertainty was eating at him, making him brood even more.

The phone Megatron had conned pinged at him to be recognized, and Sam answered it:

"What?"  
"Why, aren't we rainbows and sunshine, Sammy?" Megatron drawled.

"I assume you have good news."

"Of a sort. I spoke to our good professor after class, and my advanced alien knowledge of physics intrigued and excited her. I suggested meeting somewhere to discuss the topic more, and, after a hesitation and some cajoling on my part, she agreed."

Megatron gave Sam the name of a cafe and then cut the connection. Sam searched for it and jolted in surprise at how far he had traveled. Perhaps obeying the speed limit wasn't quite an option if he was to arrive in time.

_Meh. Speed limits are for wusses anyway._

Sam poured on the speed, only going the posted limit when he sensed a police car or a speed camera in the vicinity. He could almost _feel_ the envy pouring off of the other drivers at his casual abuse of the rules, which made him smirk. He broke a few other laws, too, and his human part reveled in it as much as the Decepticon did. Rules, afterall, were made to be broken.

Sam wound his way back onto the UCSC campus, and found Megatron waiting impatiently. He opened the passenger-side door, and Megatron gave him a glare as he stepped in. "What took you so long?" he demanded once the door was shut.

"I went out for a ride and drove a little farther than I thought I had."

"Mm," Megatron murmured and leaned back in the seat, crossing his arms.

"You learned other things while at the college, didn't you?"

Megatron briefly hesitated. "In a sense."

"Oh?" Sam asked, intrigued.

Megatron sighed. "I'm _acting like you_."

Sam blinked before his spark sank. "Like _me_ or like a _human?_"

"Does it matter? I'm adopting the mannerisms of your kind...I find myself wondering what I should call myself. That's the reason you didn't give Optimus your name, isn't it?"

"Because if I choose a name, I lose my identity and adopt _this one_," Sam said softly. "How did you introduce yourself to the professor?"

"I didn't. I kept the conversation focused on her and never mentioned my name. It's surprisingly easy to get people to talk about themselves and keep them focused on that alone."

Sam smirked and shrugged. "Yeah. I know."

There was a morose silence that was only broken by the soft clicking of the turn signal every now and then.

"It's inevitable, isn't it? With how fast this is progressing..."

"And just for casual conversation, we might not always be able to get away from giving a name."

"I guess...what was that name you used? John Smith?"

Sam snickered softly. "Yes. The reason they asked 'seriously' is because it's considered a traditional American name, quite corny and cliché."

"Cliche or not, it's something I'll be able to remember. You, though...Cybertronian names are different."

"I gathered."

"Don't be a jerk. I'm being _serious._ Cybertronian names have _meaning_."

"Which is why you were so pissed when I started calling you Megs."

"I _still_ am pissed that you call me that, shithead."

Sam snickered. "Then, help me choose a Cybertronian name."

"I can't."

"What? Why?"

Megatron shrugged. "We all pick our own names. As said, they have _meaning—_purely _personal_ meaning. I can't _really_ have a say in what you choose."

So Sam thought.

Decepticons and Autobots had strange names, as far as Sam was concerned, but he knew that their names were equally strange to the Cybertronians. Still...Starscream, Barricade, Bonecrusher, Ironhide, Bumblebee, Jazz...there didn't seem to be much rhyme or reason. At least human names tended to follow traditions of sorts, and weren't quite so...disparate. Still, the irregularities now made sense since, apparently, each Cybertronian chose their own. But, what would he call himself? He was _new_ to this whole Decepticon business—

Wait. That in itself was something to consider. _Was_ he a Decepticon? Jetfire had said that being a Decepticon or Autobot was a _choice_. The mech had defected—no, _switched—_to the Autobots. That meant that even though his default was _technically_ a Decepticon, since he did happen to inhabit the _Decepticon leader's body_, that didn't mean he couldn't become an _Autobot_.

That was assuming he never regained his true body.

The question still remained, though. _Would_ he choose to be an Autobot...or a Decepticon? The initial answer was _Autobot, duh_, but...there were a few things about himself that gave him pause. The primary one being that _he wasn't trying to be an Autobot, regardless of his body._ He had simply...accepted that he was to be a Decepticon. At least temporarily.

It was terrifying, how casually he had assumed a Decepticon alignment. That was _definitely_ a result of more than just being in Megatron's body. That, to him, meant that there was something fundamentally wrong with how he viewed the world. Shouldn't he take the Autobot perspective, that all life was to be cherished, everyone given a chance to be the best they could possibly be, regardless of their history?

The Decepticon in him sneered at the very sentiment, and Sam found it harder to separate human-Sam from Decepticon-Sam.

"Megs."

"What, slime?"

"Why do you keep on calling me a 'con?"

Megatron sounded genuinely puzzled, "Because you are, that's why." There was a beat before understand appeared to dawn, "Ah. I see. The different spark, the different _consciousness_ inhabiting my former shell, should have been able to change the alignment, regardless of your the past, right? And yet, it remains a Decepticon, even though you spent countless hours among the Autobots and were, at one point, the very thing that you are now beginning to detest. Personally, I think that if any human were given your situation, almost every one of them would end up being a Decepticon."

It was a sobering thought, and the silence that followed that statement lasted until they reached downtown Santa Cruz.

Sam pulled up to a parking space, looking disdainfully at the meter, causing Megatron to snicker. "Come," he said, voice teasing, "if you can create a corporeal holoform, you can definitely project the illusion of a full meter before you."

Sam paused, then sighed. "You have a point."

"Of _course_ I do," Megatron drawled and opened his door, stepping out. "The place is right across the street. Your enhanced senses should be able to pick up every word of our conversation. Just remember to keep your Decepticon signature suppressed," Megatron drawled and closed the door with a slam, making Sam wince, then sigh.

_Should've expected that..._

An annoying ping kept on going off in his processor, making him frown and search hard for the source. Finally, he located and accessed what the persistent alert was trying to tell him.

He became very quiet, absolutely still mentally and physically. Anything—any kind of movement _at all—_could give him away.

Still, listening to two conversations and trying not to get slagged by the Autobot turning the corner promised to be hard, even for his advanced capabilities. He'd have to still everything that made him more than just a car, but somehow keep his sensors online. He supposed it'd be a lot like going to sleep but leaving a tape recorder on or something.

_Oh. Oh. Well, isn't _that_ awkward_, Sam thought wryly as his sensors picked up that the very person they were desperately needing to meet was dropped off by none other than the Autobot Jolt.  
_Awkward sauce is awkward, _Sam thought with an inward sigh.

He knew the Autobot was regarding him suspiciously, but Sam was pouring on his innocent car act, his signature suppressed as far as he could while also remaining conscious. He wanted to be alert in case anything started happening.

Thankfully, it didn't seem as if things would pass by smoothly. The first half-hour was Megatron charming the adult female (_whoa, Sam—the _woman_)_, he being engaging and smooth, obviously (to Sam, at least) lulling the professor into a state of security, making her believe she could back out of the conversation whenever she wanted, and that she was giving nothing away.

Which was a lie, since Megatron was asking little leading questions that gave them answers without the woman ever realizing it.

Feeling that Megatron would be able to take care of everything himself and setting aside a sensor to monitor if anything started going downhill, he turned his attention to the _other_ conversation he had access to.

After just half a minute, Sam sneered, disgust and amusement warring equally within him. Perhaps there _was_ a reason why Megatron remained leader, regardless of all the power plays going on behind his back. Sam had the distinct feeling that even if he _hadn't_ had his ability to communicate disabled, he would have been able to listen in on the conversation between the Decepticon underlings _anyway._

He also realized why the Decepticon leader kept Starscream around, even for all his aspirations towards leadership—Starscream was strong, intelligent and capable, but he lacked _leadership,_ lacked _vision—_both which were necessary to keep the treacherous Decepticons in line. Starscream couldn't find any particular goal outside of 'get Megatron's position because I can do it better.' Once he got there...well, he may have lasted two of Earth's years, but that was because there was Fallen driving the Decepticons.

However, because no-one _really_ knew Megatron's fate, there was a debate as whether to look for him or give leadership to someone else. Most, being Decepticons, were voting towards assuming he was gone and getting someone else to do his job—although Megatron had instilled enough fear in them that quite a few were pushing for finding him (if just because he was known, and change was terrifying).

It was an interesting conversation to listen in on, but he was jolted out of his eavesdropping when an Autobot came within the reach of his personal danger zone. He was brought quickly back to himself when he saw that another Autobot (_Sideswipe_?) had pulled into a parking space four cars down.

What _were_ they expecting him to do? There were _far_ too many people around, and the collateral damage would be _horrendous—_he wasn't about to start a fight. That he also had no idea about how to do anything besides run also aided in that desire. Shouldn't the fact that he _hadn't_ started anything be indicatory that he wasn't out for blood?

_Stupid Autobots._

Sam blinked and shivered inwardly. _Can't start thinking like that. Can't start thinking like that. _Can't start thinking like that!

He turned his attention back to Megatron, who was getting a surprising amount of information out of their contact—most of it being bad news, but it was information nonetheless.

It appeared that she had been the _legal_ head scientist, but that there had been a lot that went on underneath her that she didn't know much about...and which had grated on her. So, when she had been offered the out, she had taken it.

Of course, none of this was ever directly said, but with Sam's advanced sensors capable of monitoring body rhythms, he could tell when she was evading, telling the truth, or blatantly lying, since her vocal inflections gave away emotions, as did her posture and facial expressions. Megatron would be more capable of reading into her _words_, but Sam could at least begin to decipher what was _actually_ being said.

Megatron and her's conversation lasted far longer than Sam had anticipated, and by the end, the woman seemed to genuinely _like_ Megatron (the thought of which made Sam snicker inwardly—_oh, if only she _knew_..._).

Once they parted, Megatron leisurely made his way back to Sam, opening the driver's side door and stepping in.

"So," Sam said.

"So," Megatron repeated, voice tired. "I've got good news and bad news."

"The bad news is we still have no idea how to reverse this."

"The _good_ news is that she directed me to someone who might. Of course, that person happens to be on the other side of the country, but, hey, I'm up for it. Are you?"

"Sure. How about I get a different form of air transit and we'll make our way there?"

"Can you get to Philadel...uh-oh."

"Uh-oh wha—ah, shit."

_Another_ 'bot had shown up. "They can't seriously think me dangerous enough to require more than just _one_..."

"You've escaped them before. You're not afraid to use humans to get what you want. And while you've never _fought_ them...."

"I'm a dangerous unknown," Sam finished in a groan. "Well, c'mon. There's no use to me staying here. Let's hope that they give me at least a _little_ time so I can catch a better, faster car. Because, right now, there's now way in hell I'm getting ahead of Sideswipe."

Megatron snickered and put his hands lightly on the steering wheel, doing a very good job of looking like he was driving. "Have you decided on a name?" Megatron asked casually, turning on the radio to cover their conversation.

Sam paused, then spoke: "Yeah. I guess. Something with 'shift' in it. Shiftswitch. Shiftstrike. Shifter. Something like that."

"Shifter sounds dumb, a nickname, perhaps, for one of the other two names. May I ask why?"

"Because I can remember and change into multiple forms. That and the whole being able to go between bipedal mode and vehicle mode." Sam paused briefly, "So I think Shiftswitch is best. Because I can switch between what I shift into."

"Tacky, but oddly appropriate for you, worm."

"Shut up, Megs."

Megatron chuckled softly. "Whatever you say, Shifter."

Sam pulled out onto the highway and saw that Sideswipe, Jolt, and one who Sam couldn't place, followed him.

"How can I lose them this time? They'll be prepared for my helicopter form."

"Use my base alt form."

"_Probably_ a bad decision."

Megatron snorted. "Then what other options have you?'

Sam frowned inwardly and wracked his processor...when a schematic that surprised him popped up. "Megs, why do you have Jazz's specs?"

"Hm? Oh. Well..." Megatron's voice became unduly smug, "when I kill a femme or mech, I try to make sure that they will _never_ be able to bounce back, and that means making sure their spark is well and gone. As long as there is even a _hint_ of one within a Cybertronian shell, a good medic can resurrect a heavily injured one."

"Then why was I able to bring back Optimus?"

"Because I wasn't thorough enough, that's why," Megatron snapped, although there was an odd undercurrent of sad longing to his voice.

"Sure, whatevs," Sam drawled, making Megatron lightly smack him. "Still doesn't tell me why you have Jazz's specs."

"I've never had to rely on energon because a spark's energy lasts _so much longer_."

There was a brief, horrified pause. "Wait, you _ate Jazz's spark?_"

"It was quite tasty," Megatron said, nodding slightly.

"Christ...if I could get ill in this body, I totally would be retching now."

Megatron laughed coldly. "You'll see. This _is_ my body. You'll understand when you first really set down to fighting an Autobot...or even a Decepticon, as the case may be."

Sam was shaking slightly, but the 'con in him couldn't help but see a way to use the schematics of the Autobot saboteur to his advantage.

As he drove, his body twisted and shifted and morphed itself into a new alt form, one which made the Autobots behind him brake hard in surprise, allowing Sam to pour on some speed and drive nimbly away.

All the while, Megatron was laughing.

--

**Post note:** I swear, I didn't make the last bit about Megatron up! I read on tfwiki that, in the video games that accompanied the _movies_ as well as in the novelization of said movies, it seems to be implied that Megs _eats_ the sparks of those who die--regardless of allegiance. I figured that'd make for an interesting plot thing, so I used it.


	3. Bartering

**Author**: Hahaha...yeah. Back again. This fic is taking up the majority of my attention, going "post me! post me! and when you're done that _write me, damnit!_" Which leaves me going D: "but the GRE..." Anyway. Will someone PLEASE tell me why everyone likes this story?! I swear, the amount of reviews and favorites and alerts are ASTOUNDING to someone who's used to having posted fanfics overlooked. Not that I'm complaining. no, not at all...I love reviews. And anyone who has read this. A ton. You guys are of the awesome. Right. I'll shut up now...

**Disclaimer**: Not mine. Alas.

---

Sam _knew_ it was a bad idea, but they had been so damn _tired._ It is impossible to run forever; eventually, you need rest.

That and Megatron was starting to _reek_.

The two of them had hit the next big city, Sam morphing into a local taxi cab so that his occasionally reckless driving would be excused.

"So, what exactly are you planning on doing?" Megatron drawled, leaning against the window listlessly, watching the scenery pass by, obviously exhausted.

"Get us money from an ATM, then find a place where we can crash. You need a shower and food and sleep. I need rest. It's tiring switching from alt form to alt form."

It was true. Sam had gone through at least a dozen different forms, all meant to throw the Autobots off his trail—especially since they had figured out that his passenger was none other than Sam Witwicky (which was actually kinda funny, considering the truth of the situation). He had gone through farm vehicles, minivans, semis, a school bus, a Greyhound bus, and numerous cars, from brand-new to far-too-old-to-still-be-running. The constant mass and energy shift was exhausting, and he was running on empty—figuratively and literally.

They turned a corner into a more secluded space and he shifted into a bland, everyday car, his holoform stepping out. He was about to say something when he saw that Megatron was passed out in the front seat, making him inexplicably smile. His holoform—now an almost perfect copy of Trent—walked up to a nearby ATM and examined it. He took out a fake card, inserted it, and proceeded to bypass the system in order to withdraw a sufficient amount for Megatron to survive on before he took his card back, putting it safely away, cash in his other hand.

He turned away, walked back to the car, and settled in again. He turned on and eased out, sticking the money in the overhead visor. Sam melted flawlessly into traffic, on the lookout for a cheap hotel or hostel or _something_. He eventually found one to his liking and elbowed Megatron, causing the former Decepticon to grunt and groggily glare at Sam.

"What?" he asked, voice slurred with sleep.

"I found a place where you can stay. Get some real rest. Take a shower. Once you're rested we'll get food."

"Y'sure no-one'll recognize me?"

"There's...always a chance. But you're no good to me if you're out of it."

Megatron snorted. "Same back to you. You're farin' no better then me."

Sam grimaced. "Yeah, well..."

"Good thin' izzat when you're rechargin' no-one'll be able to track you," Megatron murmured as Sam pulled into a parking space.

"Yeah, yeah, sure." Sam took down the money and handed it to Megatron. "Get yourself a bed. You might necessarily be sharing a _room_. Try not to be too much of a jerk."

Megatron had sneered and taken the money, leaving the car with muttered insults, which—inexplicably—made Sam smirk.

Sam had remained alert until he got a text from Megatron saying : "Got a room. Go 2 sleep, bitch."

He snickered, replied with a "Fuck you, dipshit," and found a place he wouldn't be towed, settling down for some much-needed rest.

The next time he saw Megatron was on a news broadcast.

Apparently, someone _had_ recognized Megs, even in the out-of-the-way place Sam had chosen. They had, thankfully, been unable to find Sam, since he had shut down _all_ systems, which doused his Spark-signature as a Decepticon, and as he had changed his alt form yet again...

_Perhaps Megs was right about me needing to become a light sleeper,_ Sam thought wearily as he watched the news clip, Megatron _obviously_ sulking—well, obviously to _Sam_ at least. The 'con was a remarkable actor.

_Well, can't have him _stay_ with the 'bots, now can I?_ He thought sleepily, detached from reality. _Guess'll have to go and get him. Can't go in guns blazin', though, 'cause I'd get wasted so fast...so, what do I do?_

Sam sat in his parking spot for a while, mulling over his options.

He _could_ just leave Megatron where he was and go to Philly on his own, and get the information he needed. But, somehow...that felt _wrong_. What if the person was inaccessible by him? What if he had to get somewhere only a _human_ could go, not a holoform image. He needed to maintain at least quasi line-of-sight to be able to use the projection. So, really, going it alone wasn't an option. He needed to have Megatron around to accomplish his goal.

That meant that he, indeed, had to rescue the bastard.

_But, I'm a 'con. They won't _willingly_ talk to me, especially when I'm asking for their supposed savior. I need to have something to _trade_, something that they'd want as badly as I need Megs..._

It took Sam a while longer, but he eventually formed a plan that would require him to actually tap into the deception that was an integral part of his allegiance's name.

The Decepticon Shiftswitch sighed and pulled away from his parking spot, heading towards his former home.

–

Shiftswitch was parked a few blocks down from a familiar apartment, holoform's arms crossed, a pensive frown on his face.

Exactly _how_ would he go about doing this? He knew Mikaela was with the 'bots right now, and that the most important person in her life—aside from Sam and her boss (see: Ratchet)—was her father. Could he just use Mikaela as a way to get him out of his home? And how would he keep him hidden long enough to retrieve the Witwickys?

_Then_ there was the problem of getting Annabelle. He knew that she was attending a military-run daycare while her mother took up her duties again. Getting past all that security would be a pain and a half, and he would _really_ have to get creative.

Shiftswitch, with his advanced sensors, saw Mikaela's father exit the apartment. The Decepticon decided to wing it and drove quickly up to him, stopping in front of the older man, his holoform exiting his alt form, the very picture of a government agent.

"Mr. Banes?" he asked, his voice deep, cultured and authoritative.

"Yeah?" the man asked, looking at Shiftswitch suspiciously.

Sam flashed a FBI badge and briskly replied, "Something has happened to your daughter, and we fear that you may be the next target."

"Somethin' happened to 'kaela?" he parroted, horrified.

"Please, get in the van," he said, gesturing the the black, heavily-tinted vehicle. "We need to assure your safety."

"How can I trust the govn'ment?" the man asked warily—which was justified, considering he'd be on the wrong side of the law a number of times.

"Please," Switch pleaded. "We are doing this for your safety. There may be an attack at any time and we don't want..."

It took a few more minutes and a number of lies, but Shiftswitch apparently sounded earnest and honest enough that the man complied. The minute the door shut, the older man hit the seat with a _thud_, out like a light due to the potent sleeping agent Switch had circulating through his interior. The Decepticon sighed and stepped into the driver's seat, pulling away from the apartment.

The 'con ran a hand through his hair and shook his head.

_How to approach the Witwickys...?_

An idea hit him that made him smile wryly.

_Of course. They'll be _ecstatic_. _

Switch paused long enough to hide and change into a familiar form and face, placing Mikaela's father in the trunk space, feeling only a little bad. It was necessary for his plan to succeed, and it wasn't as if he was actually _hurting_ the man...he wasn't tied up or anything, and the sleeping agent wouldn't cause any psychological or physical harm. The man would also be moved to a more comfortable location once Switch had picked up the Witwickys.

Switch drove up to his former home in a perfect replica of Bumblebee, every detail of his alt form—and his own—appearance flawless. He stepped out of the faux-Camaro, walked up to his home, and rang the doorbell.

The door opened quickly, his mother standing there with bat raised.

Switch put his hands up in surrender, eyes widening. "Um, hi, mom," he said in his human voice.

His mother's eyes widened and her grip fell slack, the bat falling forgotten out of her hand before dragging Sam into a bear-hug, crying and rambling incoherently. Switch eventually got her to loosen her hold, and he gave her an unsure smile.

"We...we thought..." she hiccuped, and Switch saw his father coming down the stairs. Switch gave an uncertain wave and Ron came racing down the remaining stairs.

"They said you wouldn't be back for a while," his father said, hands on his wife's shoulders.

Switch smiled sheepishly. "I kinda convinced Bee to help me escape." He shifted on his feet, and looked at his parents with a relieved smile.

"Come in, come in," his father said and Switch allowed himself to be pulled into the living room. Thankfully, it was _just_ within his range to project a corporeal holoform, and he sat down on the couch, his mother attaching herself to his side again, her hands exploring him just to make sure he was _real_ and _okay._

Which was funny, considering neither was the case, but, hey, he wasn't a Decepticon for nothing.

"I'm _fine_, mom, seriously," Switch said, batting her hands away.

This, surprisingly, made her give him a watery smile, his father pressing a glass of some alcoholic beverage or another into her hand, which she downed in one gulp.

"What happened, son?" Ron Witwicky asked, pulling Switch's attention to him.

Switch shifted in his seat and sighed. "I was stupid, ok? I got separated from Bee while coming home and went exploring in the place where we were gonna meet everyone. I ran into a 'con, and, well...I only recently managed to escape."

"We were so _worried_ about you!" his mother cried, throwing her arms around him again. Switch gave his father an awkward, worried look that made him smile and rub his eyes—he _totally_ hadn't been about to cry.

Switch felt a tinge of guilt, but quickly shoved it to the side. Now was _not_ the time to be feeling guilty—that would only get in the way of what he was trying to do.

Switch lied through his teeth when he answered all of their questions, although kept an element of truth in all of them so that if he needed to backpedal he at least had someplace to start. It took him an hour and a half, but he eventually assuaged all their fears. By that time, it was late, and Switch looked between the clock and his parents, making his 'stomach' growl.

"Do you...do you wanna go get dinner somewhere? I'm _starving_ and wanna celebrate bein' back..."

There was the briefest of hesitations before his parents nodded. "Sure," his mother replied, voice slightly slurred from all the alcohol she had consumed.

Switch smiled faintly and helped his mother up, leading her to the door, taking them to his alt form. Both adults climbed in and settled in the front and back seats; they, too were out like lights almost the moment after they had sat down.

Switch sighed and pulled away, changing to an RV camper once he had space and was hidden enough to do so. His holoform put the three humans in places where they would be comfortable before returning to the driver's seat.

Now was the hard one.

Switch pulled out onto the highway and began the trip to the place where the Lennox's daughter was cared for during the time when her parents were busy.

–

Shiftswitch closed the cell phone with a quiet snap, a satisfied smirk on his face. He had made sure that the Witwickys and Mr. Banes' absences were accounted for so that no suspicion would be unduly raised by their being out of contact. _Now_ was the hard part.

His entire plan hinged on having _all_ his hostages, not just _most_ of them, and his last—and, perhaps, most _crucial_—was Annabelle. The problem was her being on a military complex. They were very careful about who came and went, and were especially careful about the children. It would take a good deal of luck and equally large amount of skill to pull this particular stunt off.

Switch had been watching the base carefully, and was pleased to discover that Annabelle was departing in the company of someone other than her mother—apparently the woman was to be busy late into the evening and the daycare center had closed. It appeared as if luck was on his side.

Switch carefully shadowed the vehicle Annabelle was in, doing his damndest not to seem stalker-ish, pulling off and stopping at a different spot a few blocks away. He waited patiently until the caretaker and young girl had settled in before switching his disguise and pulling up beside the parked car, lights off and motor silent before turning off the engine and waiting. He watched closely with his sensors until the caretaker fell asleep watching TV (although there was a gun in easy reach—hey, when your father and mother are both accomplished military officers, paranoia tends to pay off).

Switch sighed and his image-only holoform slipped out of the door, allowing him to slide easily through locks and doors until he had come to Mrs. Lennox's apartment. He slipped in with equal stealth, walking over to the caretaker. He allowed his holoform to become corporeal and he gently reached out and pressed a few pressure points that would keep the woman out _cold_ and insensate to the world. His holoform went image-only again as he entered Annabelle's room. He briefly hesitated, not wanting to wake the young girl, since she would probably scare at an unfamiliar face. Still...

His form went corporeal again and he picked her up oh-so-gently, keeping her wrapped in her blankets. He looked around the room before choosing a few obviously well-loved toys, balancing them precariously against him. He tiptoed out of the building, locking everything behind him as he went, before slipping back into his alt form.

He didn't allow himself to relax until they were on the highway. It was then that he let his shoulders drop, placing the toys on the passenger seat, holding the young girl on his lap, his arms caging her in.

_How to explain myself to her...?_ he wondered idly.

He had administered an injected sedative since deciding he would take the little girl, as he was pretty sure that the dosage needed to knock out the girl would be much less than it took for the adults, and didn't want to risk harming Annabelle.

He settled in for a long, leisurely drive, wanting to let panic set in before he revealed himself.

--

Switch and Annabelle were in the midst of a rather heated game of "I Spy" when Mr. Banes' cell phone went off. Usually, Switch let it ring until it went to voice mail (unless it was the man's probation officer, to whom Switch dutifully reported to daily), but since it had been ringing incessantly—and the call was always from the same person—he decided that they had finally figured out that something had happened to the elder Banes and Witwickys. He was also almost entirely sure that people were now looking frantically for Annabelle. Therefore, now was the perfect time to answer the phone. He had (almost) all the cards in his hands.

He smiled at Annabelle and said, in a rather apologetic tone, "I'm sorry, there's someone important on the phone."

Annabelle pouted, but when Switch gave her a coloring book with sparkly crayons to color with on the head of his steering wheel, the girl was sufficiently distracted.

_Oh, this is gonna be good._

"Hello, Mikaela," he purred into the phone after flipping it open, his voice unaltered from its default frequencies (he had figured out how to mimic other people's vocalizations—afterall, it _was_ just a mess of frequencies, and such could be duplicated)—which meant he sounded like Megatron.

There was shocked, dead silence on the other end before Mikaela demanded angrily: "Who is this?"

"Your friendly neighborhood 'con," Switch said cheerfully.

"What the fuck have you done with my dad?" she yelled at him.

"Tsk, tsk, such language from a young lady!" he chided teasingly. "If you _must_ know, I've done _nothing_ to him. Well, except abduct him, but he's unharmed," Switch amended. "I've even been nice enough to feed and clean up after him." Which was true. He didn't want anyone dying on him, so that meant cleaning up after their excretions and feeding them those breakfast drinks so that they stayed hydrated and nourished. That he had also chosen a modified tour bus as his latest alt form spoke to him wanting them to be as comfortable as possible for hostages.

"What do you want from me?" the young woman demanded.

"From _you_? Nothing. From the 'bots...well, that's a different story. You can tell the lovelies that not only have I acquired _your_ dear father, but also have have the Witwickys in my possession..." Switch looked down as Annabelle reached impatiently for the cell phone, making Switch grin. "Ah, someone would like to speak with you," he murmured, placing the cell phone gently against Annabelle's ear.

"Hewwo," the toddler said happily.

He took the real cell away and handed her an older one that was deactivated, she playing with the buttons, fascinated by the numbers that appeared on the screen and the tones, the coloring book and crayons falling away, forgotten. "That," he said to the horrified silence, "was Annabelle Lennox."

"You _monster_," Mikaela snarled.

Switch laughed. "Oh, come, come. Did she sound hurt to you? I've kept her quite safe, thank you. I know that hurting any one of the humans in my care would only earn me an even faster death sentence from the 'bots."

There was a shift and a strange tone before a familiar voice answered the phone: "Megatron," Optimus stated flatly.

"Not _quite_," Switch replied lightly. "Although I understand the confusion—I have been told that we sound remarkably alike."

"Then who are you?"

"It doesn't really matter, does it? I'm a Decepticon, and therefore your enemy."

"Why have you captured those people?"

"Because if I didn't you wouldn't take me seriously," Switch answered, becoming serious himself. "You have something I want. I have something you want. Perhaps...we can arrange an exchange."

"What do we have that _you_ want?" Optimus asked.

"Sam Witwicky," Switch replied. "I want the boy."

"Why? To extract your revenge?"

Switch laughed. "You get me all wrong! He has something I _need—_why would I hurt someone who is _useful_ to me?"

"That hasn't stopped you before."

"Again, I am _not_ Megatron," Switch said, annoyed. "Now, what say you? Four people for just _one_...surely that is a bargain...?"

"You're lying."

Switch rolled his eyes. "Am not. Cross my spark and hope to die," he drawled, shifting his grip on Annabelle so she could put her small hands on the steering wheel of his alt form.

"How do we know?"

Switch sighed. "Jesus Christ, you guys are fucking _paranoid_."

With a little effort, he used Mrs. Witwicky's phone to take pictures of all his hostages and sent them to Mikaela's phone. "You should've gotten something on the girl's phone. Proof that I'm not bluffing."

There was a brief silence before Optimus sighed in a defeated manner. "Where?"

"I'll let you all choose," Switch said sweetly. "Just so you don't feel threatened by little old me."

There was a squawk of indignation from the background somewhere, followed by a command of some sort (probably to shut up).

Mrs. Witwicky's phone vibrated and Switch saw a set of co-ordinates not too far from where he was displayed on the screen. "Ah. Gotcha. See you there," Switch said cheerfully before hanging up.

Annabelle was looking at him curiously as he tossed the two cell phones into the seat beside him. "What do you want to play?" he asked, and the girl's eyes lit up.

The rest of the ride was spent playing "Count-the-cars," which was entertaining considering the child's miniscule attention span.

Switch eventually pulled into the parking lot of an abandoned factory and sat back in his seat with a sigh, Annabelle asleep on his lap, she breathing slowly and gently against him. The Decepticon gently stroked the girl's hair and smiled softly. She was fun. She drove him _nuts_ sometimes, but she was charmingly, innocently sweet.

Switch felt the Autobots arrive before he actually saw them, and transformed himself so as to not be caught off-guard, the humans stored safely away in a clear chest compartment, Annabelle still held securely in his holoform's arms.

Optimus, Ironhide, Bumblebee, Ratchet, and the new 'bot that Switch hadn't recognized all transformed once Ironhide had let out a _very_ angry-looking Will and Bee had released Sam—who was Megatron in actuality.

"Where are they?" Optimus demanded softly.

Switch raised a hand to his chest and opened the compartment, his holoform gently nudging his captives onto his palm before stepping there himself, holding Annabelle gently but firmly in his embrace. Switch knelt and put the sleeping humans on the ground as gently as he could before his holoform jumped off his palm with Annabelle clinging sleepily to his shirt. His holoform took a few steps forward so that Annabelle was clearly visible—as was his lack of weaponry.

"As promised. Now, if you would..."

There was a brief hesitation before Megatron walked forward and stretched out his hands, obviously asking for Annabelle. Sam handed her over, his shoulders slumping slightly as he pulled out of his Decepticon persona. Behind him, his form shifted to that of a private jet, leaving space between him and the resting humans.

"Well, c'mon," he said impatiently once Megatron had handed the sleeping child over to Lennox (who was frantically examining her to make sure Sam hadn't done anything). "We have somewhere to be."

Megatron snorted and strolled over to where Sam was waiting near the stairs leading up to the jet. "What the hell took you so long, worm?" the former Decepticon leader drawled quietly.

"I didn't want to be slagged, that's what, fucktard," Sam replied dryly, just above a whisper. He followed Megatron up the stairs when a few objects caught his eye, making him slap his forehead. "Jesus, can't believe I nearly _forgot_," he muttered to himself before collecting Annabelle's toys. He set them all down next to his mom's head, doing it slowly and deliberately to show that what he was doing wasn't threatening. Once he had cleared out the objects he had used to keep the toddler occupied, he returned to the jet and took off at once, his corporeal holoform fading into image-only.

Once they were in the air, Megatron sighed heavily. "You have _no_ fucking clue how hard it is to be _you_."

Sam snickered, but the sound was tight. "Yeah, I guess."

Megatron blinked and looked hard at Sam. "You gave in, didn't you?" he asked slowly, a wicked smirk spreading across his face. "You became a Decepticon, at least for a little bit."

Sam's image-only holoform winced. "I had to. Sam _couldn't've_ done what I did."

"And what exactly _did_ you do?" Megatron asked, curious. "You weren't _entirely_ a 'con or else you wouldn't've returned them _unharmed_, if at all."

Sam winced. "I just...deceived them. Got Mr. Banes to come with me by pretending something had happened to Mikaela. Tricked my parents into believe that I was who I used to be. Got Annabelle out from under their noses by being really_, really careful _and _incredibly_ _lucky_. I kept everyone under by sedating them with drugs I stole from a hospital. I didn't do _anything_ to Annabelle though...just kept her occupied by playing with her. I still feel bad about it. How will my parents ever trust me again?" he groaned, head going into his hands.

"Trust is never an option when you're a 'con," Megatron said with a shrug and sat down in one of the chairs with a sigh. A wistful smile formed on Megatron's face.

"What's up?" Sam asked, curious.

Megatron quickly wiped the expression away with a scowl. "None of your business."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "You _liked_ being with the 'bots, didn't you?"  
"Of _course_ not. The clash of our ideals is too much to be overcome," he replied primly.

"Not when you're playing at being Sam Witwicky," Sam said with a grin. "Didja get cozy with 'Kaela?"

Megatron looked horrified, but the blush that tinged his cheeks told otherwise.

"I _see_," Sam half-sneered before he caught himself, his shoulders falling. "I see. You _were_ human...just as I _was_ a Decepticon."

There was an agonized pause before Sam sighed and shrugged. "Whatever. We'll find a way to reverse this."

"Before I get too used to being one of your primitive organics."

"And I lose all my morals and ethics."

Sam's attempted to turn his attention to flying, but his mind was racing too much for him to do so.

_We have to figure out how to reverse this, and soon. If we don't...I'll become a 'con, I just _know_ it. Being...being Shiftswitch was _easy_. It was _fun._ It felt..._natural.

Sam's spark ached. _But, how will I ever—_ever_—get back my humanity? Even when I'm in my body again..._

Sam sighed softly, and shoved the problem to the back of his mind, promising to deal with it when the time came.

–

"So, where exactly does this guy live?"

"Apparently, he's a professor at...damn, what was that college's name? It was _weird_."

"Weird how?

"Definitely wasn't English."

"Okay, that doesn't really narrow things down. Do you at least remember the guy's name?"

Megatron paused and thought for a moment before providing it. Sam quickly ran a search and his holoform's eyebrows shot up. "Yeah, that _is_ a weird name. Hey, it's a woman's college."

"Great, an entire campus of lesbians."

"It's not nice to stereotype."

"You were thinking it, too."

"Was not."

"Was too."

"Was not."

"Was too."

"Dude, seriously? Can we focus a _little_ bit? What do you know about this guy?"

"Only that's he more than he seems. It's like he gave up a life of crime to become straight-laced or somethin'. He was all involved in illicit research and experiments and stuff but is now contentedly working as a teacher and lab coordinator."

"Huh. Guess people change, right?" Sam said and smiled wryly at Megatron, who rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, sure, sure. How long will it take us to get there?"

"Not too long if I break a few laws."

"That's the spirit," Megatron said with a toothy grin.

Sam shook his head and chuckled. "So, tell me—what did you learn at the Autobot base?"

"You think I did some intel?"

"Megs, how could you _not_? You're the fucking Decepticon leader!"

Megatron laughed coldly. "Point well made." There was a brief pause before Megatron began: "They were all flustered that I was gone, and baffled by your absence."

"Wait, who's I and who's you?"

Megatron blinked and frowned. "I..." he hesitated, looking terrified and nervous, two expressions Sam would have never associated with the Decepticon leader. "I don't know," he finished in a whisper.

Sam shifted nervously in the seat of his newest alt form (a rather elegant sedan that he had passed on the highway). "This is bad. This is _very_ bad."

"_I _am _Megatron_," Megatron asserted to himself, but there was worry in his voice.

Sam nodded, but his spark was still troubled. It was getting too easy to think of himself as a Cybertronian, to distance himself from the humans around him. He couldn't...he just _couldn't._

He turned off at the appropriate exit, Megatron slouched in his seat.

"This is _ridiculous_," the Decepticon murmured.

"You're telling _me_," Sam sighed. "Well, you could said that this whole experience has broadened our horizons."

"Unnecessarily so," Megatron growled.

Sam snorted and nodded in agreement. "I've been keeping track of your underlings' activity," he said, changing the topic.

"Oh?"

"They're a rather disorganized bunch, aren't they?"

"Without a strong leader, any group is lost," Megatron drawled. "Afterall, when Optimus died, they turned to _you—_of all creatures!—for leadership."

Sam sighed. "I'm glad Optimus is back. That was _hard_."

"You're not meant to lead," Megatron said. "As can be evidenced by the fact that you make a much better spy than anything else."

Sam blinked. "What?"

"Oh, come _on,"_ Megatron drawled before he began to tick points off on his fingers: "With your ability to switch between alt forms quickly and flawlessly, your excessive caution, your remarkable capability to escape situations that most others wouldn't be able to, your apparent ability to deceive sufficiently to get people to trust you...dear _god,_ boy, how can you _not_ see that you could be the perfect spy?"

Sam sighed and rolled his shoulders. "I guess. It's just...I never thought I'd have that kind of life. I'd always thought I'd become an astronomer, maybe an aerospace engineer, get married, have kids, live a mundane existence. Then you bunch showed up and now I'm slated to become the official liaison between Cybertronians and humanity once I graduate college. Sure, it's nice to know I have a secure future, but at the same time...it's like I haven't had any say in it."

Megatron shrugged. "Whatever you say, insect."

"Shut up, Megs."

Strangely enough, that caused both of them to smirk at each other before Sam returned his attention to the road.

All the up and down from the hilly landscape gave Sam quite the work-out, amusing him. Eventually, they found the place they were looking for, and Megatron gave it the strangest look. "What the _hell_ were they thinking with the architecture?"

"I think it's quite nice," Sam replied dryly, having shifted his holoform to that of a young woman a while back. They pulled into the parking lot behind the science building and Sam sighed, leaning back into the seat. "Jesus, I'm going to have to be the one to get what we want."

"Yeah, considering that this is a single-gender college and I'm _not_ going to get a sex-change any time soon."

Sam snorted and stepped out of his alt form, his physique akin to Mikaela's, since that was the best model for the feminine figure that he had. He sighed and ran a hand through his long hair, looking up at the window of the office of the professor and groaned inwardly. _How the hell am I going to do this?_

_Let me,_ a small part of him whispered, the part that he could now identify as Shiftswitch, as his Decepticon-self. _I can handle it._

Sam hesitated, but eventually let his humanity take a back seat to his new nature.

Shiftswitch took a deep breath and composed himself, pulling his long hair back into a ponytail, and checking his clothing again, making sure it behaved appropriately to the weather as well as being the appropriate cut and material for the time of year. He _had_ to be convincing if he was to get anywhere. It would be a challenge, but a fun one.

He walked casually up a set of stairs and entered in through a back door into a stairwell, the musty scent of 'science building' hitting his sensors. He took the stairs slowly, feeling no need to rush and needing every moment to compose himself and get as much information as possible on the person he would be meeting.

He couldn't act _too_ forthcoming—he had to be appropriately shy and uncertain for a first meeting with a potential teacher—but confident enough to show that he _could_ survive in the rigorous academic setting this particular college provided.

_Such a fine line to walk..._

He pushed open the door to the third floor and walked out into the corridor. On his right were classrooms, on his left were professor's individual offices. In front of him at the other end of the hall were two other professor offices, one of which had the man he was looking for.

Thankfully, the door was open, probably signifying that he was allowed to enter. He licked his lips in surprising nervousness and knocked tentatively on the open door.

"Come in," was the soft voice from the inside.

Shiftswitch stepped in, looking curiously around the corner of wall that jutted into the office. The man who met his gaze didn't look like someone who would perform barely-legal testing, but one never could judge books by their covers.

"Um...hi," Shiftswitch said nervously. "I'm a...prospective student and I wanted to meet one of the professors..." he trailed off, his voice an exact replica of Mikaela's.

The man smiled kindly and gestured to the seat next to his desk. "Unless someone comes in for office hours, I'd be glad to speak with you."

Shiftswitch sat down delicately, smoothing out the wrinkles in his jeans. "Well..."

The conversation was halting at first, but Shiftswitch eventually got into a fascinating and informative conversation about the department. Throughout the entire conversation he asked little, leading questions that brought forth bits of information to be analyzed later.

Eventually, a student _did_ arrive for office hours, forcing Shiftswitch to leave, but not without thanks for the conversation. The Decepticon excused himself gracefully and walked out of the office, back down the hall.

It had gone surprisingly well. Not once did the professor think that he was 1) not a girl, 2) not _human_, or 3) that he was fishing for information. It was a _relief_.

He was getting _good _at this.

Shiftswitch exited the building the same way he had come to find Megatron sleeping in the car, arm flung over his eyes and seat reclined all the way back. He snickered and got in the driver's seat silently before he reached over and pinched the small bit of bare flesh peeking out form beneath Megatron's shirt, making the Decepticon leader yell in surprise and sit up too quickly, resulting in him hitting his head on the roof of the car.

Shiftswitch laughed and started the car, pulling out of the parking lot.

"What was _that_ for, Sam?" Megatron demanded, rubbing the spot on his head where he had hit the roof.

The name jolted Sam back to himself, although it was a more subtle process than it used to be. Sam gave Megatron a small, wry smile and said, "I got some information."

"Oh? What?"

"It's not particularly good."

"This isn't unusual for our situation, apparently," Megatron drawled.

Sam's lips twitched in the ghost of a smile. "He had a boss. Who is now, unfortunately, quite dead. He wrote a lot of papers, though, so it's possible that he printed something on his research...but it'll probably be in code or somethin', just to make life difficult."

"Thankfully, you have something better than a supercomputer for a brain, so it shouldn't be _too_ hard," Megatron drawled.

Sam snorted. "Right." He sighed and put his forehead on the steering wheel, resting it against his hands. "Now, we head to New York"

"What? Why?"

"Because that's where his only living relative is, and she might have some insight into her crazy uncle's research."

Megatron made a noise of understanding before nodding. "Alright. So. New York it is. Let's hope that we figure all this nonsense out before the shit hits the fan in one way or another."

"You mean like me getting slagged by that Autobot police car that's been following me since we left the college?" Sam asked leisurely.

"Yes—wait, what?" Megatron asked sharply and looked in the rear-view mirror. "Oh, damnit all. This is probably a result of you turning into the alt form and projecting the signature of his former mate."

"Oh. Awkward."

"Mm-hm. Thankfully, unless _you_ do something, _he_ won't do anything. He's a nuisance, but an honor-bound nuisance," Megatron grumbled.

"And he has a name?"

"Prowl."

"Are there any other new Autobots I should be aware of?"

"Their communications officer arrived recently. Prowl is here, as well as Red Alert and Wheeljack. Those are the new-comers. Thankfully, a lot of them aren't..._really_ warriors, although they can substitute as them if necessary. Red Alert is the security chief, Wheeljack is their main engineer and resident mad scientist, and Prowl is Prime's SIC. Prowl is the only one who would go after you. The others will make things that will do so for them."

"Ah, shit," Sam groaned. "Well, I'll just have to keep from giving them a reason to waste me."

"Oh, trust me—they'll find one eventually."

Sam grumbled as he merged onto the New Jersey Parkway, settling back into the flow of traffic. "Just want this to be over ASAP."

"Seconded. Now, I'm going to get some more sleep—do _not_ wake me up this time."

"Whatever," Sam threw out, ignoring the warning in the former Decepticons voice, and shifted his car into a different form when he was blocked from view of the police car covertly tailing him, altering his holoform as well before settling in for a relatively long drive.

--

**Post-note**: Here is a better place to address an issue a few reviews have brought up:

In regards to Megatron's/Sam's baffling mass-shifting capabilities: I plead either E=mc^2 (so, all of the mass is converted into energy that is stored) or handwaving. I am personally a fan of the handwaving tactic.

Much love to all my readers!


	4. Revelations

**Author**: Thank you to all who explained to me why they like this story. It's very much appreciated. A big thank you to all who read, review, favorite, alert, etc., this story. You give me warm fuzzies times 9000.

**Disclaimer**: I own a Soundwave toy. I should buy a Megatron and Optimus one just to...I'll stop there.

---

Sam had lost Prowl somewhere on the turnpike after flipping through about five different alt forms and stopping at a rest stop to get some recharge time while Megatron bought himself food, a new shirt, sunglasses, and a baseball cap (in hopes of concealing his identity).

They had entered New York City via the Holland Tunnel (where no 'bots would dare attack him since it was 1) crowded and 2) underwater. Mm...civilian casualties) and Sam was now trying to make his way to Greenwich Village, where the woman they were looking for lived.

"Damn. Mission City was crowded, but this is _ridiculous_," Megatron murmured from the passenger seat as he watched the human wildlife with rapt attention.

Sam snickered. "New York is one of the largest—if not _the_ largest—cities in the US. Considering your previous experiences, I'm not surprised that you find this...overwhelming."

"I am _not_ overwhelmed, parasite," Megatron hissed.

Sam smirked. "Whatever you say, Megs."

Sam ducked around a blind corner and shifted into a mini Cooper, making Megatron growl at the sudden mass shift. "You know, all this isn't good for my sanity."

"Deal with it. Cramped streets call for a smaller build."

"Still...this has gotta be uncomfortable."

"It is, but I'll live. It's temporary. When we get to larger main streets I have every intention to turn into a Greyhound bus or something."

Megatron snorted and sighed. "When are we going to get there?"

"Hey, NYC streets, especially those in Greenwich, are _complicated_. Deal with it."

Megatron rolled his eyes and kicked Sam's dashboard spitefully, muttering darkly.

Sam sighed softly and poked at his google map directions, eventually coming to a stop in front of a store.

"She lives in the store?" Megatron asked, incredulous.

"No, she lives above it, idiot," Sam replied dryly, earning another smack of disapproval. He looked around before he found a nearby parking space and squeezed into it, pissing off surrounding drivers, since he had a size that let him get into smaller parking spots that they couldn't.

He and Megatron exited, looking up at the apartment. "Well, we know where it is. Why don't we give her a call first and then take a stroll around the Village before paying her a visit. Seems less stalker-ish that way," Sam said and Megatron reluctantly nodded.

"You have a point. Can you get her number?"

Sam paused for a moment before rattling it off, Megatron dialing it on his conned phone. Sam leaned against his alt form as Megatron spoke to the woman, his smooth charm obviously convincing and flattering enough to get them an audience. Sam didn't bother paying attention to what Megatron was saying, as both Decepticon and Autobot signatures had registered on his sensors.

"Um, Megs."  
"What, worm?"

"Is it a bad thing when both Decepticons _and_ Autobots are looking for you?"

"Uh, _yeah_," Megatron drawled, although there was an undercurrent of unease in his voice.

"Why _here_?" Sam groaned. "Why couldn't they have honed in on me somewhere in transit? No, they have to find me _in a city_."

"For a 'con you're awfully worried about civilian casualties."

"More like collateral damage dents me."

"Why, Sam, I never knew you were vain."

"Can't hide if there's identifying marks."

"Point."  
"So, when are we meeting her?"

"Forty-five minutes. We have that time to look around and hopefully scout out any potential trouble..."  
"And get something for you to eat, apparently," Sam drawled as Megatron's stomach growled.

Megatron gave him an accusatory glare that Sam brushed off, turning to get a better look of his surroundings. "Well, I guess we just walk until we find someplace."

"Sounds as good as any plan," Megatron said with a shrug. "Does it have to be nearby?"

"Within a few blocks, but there seem to be restaurants on this street, so it shouldn't be a problem."

Megatron made a noise of comprehension. "You know, that's more than most can manage."

"Huh?" Sam said dumbly.

Megatron raised an eyebrow, obviously amused. "I suppose it's good that you didn't know your limitations beforehand, since it gave you an opportunity to work around them."

"Huh," Sam repeated, the tone indicating amused surprise this time.

The two walked together in relatively companionable silence, Sam mulling over their situation. It _appeared_ that the end was in sight, since they had hopefully found the ultimate resource on their condition—they simply had to ask the right questions and, if necessary, get their hands on the right documents.

The only problem was this: What if, in the end, they discovered that there _was_ _no way to reverse it?_ That their search ended up with them having to adapt to the fact that they would never be returned to their rightful bodies. What then?

_Deal with that when that comes, _Sam told himself with a sigh.

"What's wrong, slime?"

"Nothin', Megs," Sam said tersely. "Have you found somewhere you want to eat?"

"Yeah, across the street. Can you make it that far?"

Sam looked across the way and nodded. "It's at my limit, but I can do it."

"Good," Megatron said with a grin and dodged traffic as he crossed the street.

Sam sighed, but followed him with equal impudence, causing a number of drivers to honk and yell at him. He joined a snickering Megatron on the other side and, together, they got a table.

"Why're we getting funny looks?" Megatron asked casually as he looked over the menu, Sam simply watching the traffic pass.

"'Cause they think we're together. This _is_ the gay neighborhood of NYC."

Megatron's eyebrows snapped up. "Really."

"Really."

Megatron started snickering and shook his head. "Primus, how wrong they are."

Sam nodded and smirked faintly. "Yeah, who'd ever want to date, _you_ Megs?"

"You'd be surprised, insect" Megatron replied dryly. "My former position was quite..._attractive_ to those who wanted power." He paused and sighed dramatically. "It's not like I cared, though. I had my eye on someone, but he's as thick as a fucking _brick_ sometimes."

"Oh?" Sam asked, intrigued.

"There is no way in this existence that you will get me to tell you who," Megatron said with an air of finality, making Sam roll his eyes.

"Uh-huh. Whatever you say, Megs."

Megatron rolled his eyes before proceeding to flirt with the waitress as he ordered his meal. Sam demurred, saying that he would just like water (which he couldn't and wouldn't drink, but it helped to look normal).

Once the waitress had left, Megatron picked up their conversation again, "So, what exactly _do_ we know about our hopeful savior aside from she had a crazy uncle?"

Sam shrugged. "Not all that much, actually. We spoke mostly about said uncle, but I was referred to her if I wanted more information. I mean, I can look up stuff on her, if you want me to do that, but..."

"Hey, with your skills, it shouldn't take too long."

Sam sighed and nodded before sitting back in the chair, leaning against the wall to prevent anyone from telling that he wasn't _quite_ casting a shadow. He crossed his arms and fell silent, letting his consciousness drift on waves of information until he had come up with everything he could on their contact.

Just as he was about to speak, Megatron's meal arrived, which resulted in a little more flirting before the former Decepticon tucked into the food with a vengeance. Sam smirked and snickered softly, causing Megatron to glare at him.

"I'll tell you what I learned while you eat—you can't interrupt that way." Sam said before he began listing off facts: birth date, where she graduated from (both college and advanced degrees), unmarried, no children, no current romantic interests. Had a Facebook and LinkedIn page, no criminal history, mother and father dead, no brothers or sisters. A number of cousins, but none that she was close to. She worked as a neurologist at the Children's Hospital and was respected in her field. She _had_ been close to her uncle, which was a boon for them.

Sam finished listing off what he had found at the same time Megatron finished his meal. They received their bill and paid it before heading back towards the apartment of the woman who hopefully held the key to their reversal. They were a little late, but it appeared to be a good thing, from how the woman was unlocking her door to get into the stairs that would lead to her apartment. Sam held the door open once she had it unlocked, and she thanked him idly before realizing he was there.

"Oh. Um...there aren't any new tenants..." she trailed off, wary.

"We're not—we're the people who contacted you about interviewing you," Megatron said kindly, picking up some of the woman's overflowing baggage.

The woman blinked. "Really? Aren't you a little young to care about what my uncle did?"

"Looks can be deceiving," Megatron replied, unable to entirely hide the dry edge to his voice.

The woman's lips twitched slightly, she catching the poorly-hidden tone. "How can I be _sure?_"

"Um...because we're cute?" Sam offered tentatively.

_That_ caused the woman to laugh and shake her head. "Why don't we have coffee somewhere instead? I'd feel better being in a public place."

_Guess paranoia isn't a purely Decepticon trait,_ Sam thought wryly. "Sure, but it can't be too far—my car is parked only semi-legally and I want to make sure it doesn't get towed," Sam said, making the woman smile.  
"Fine. I know the owner of the cafe two doors down, so we'll head there."

Sam and Megatron nodded, Sam closing the door once the woman had stashed all her stuff in her apartment save for the essentials (which ended up being a _huge_ bag). They walked beside her, Megatron pouring on the charm to get her to relax, which she did—slowly. They got a sidewalk table at the aforementioned cafe, and talked about nothing for a good hour.

Eventually, Sam asked, "So...would you mind telling us about your uncle? It's imperative that you tell us."

The woman paused, then sighed. "Sure. Why not? It's not like he did anything really _important_." She ran a hand through her hair and fixed Sam with a _look_. "What d'you wanna know?"

Sam and Megatron briefly shared a glance before Megatron started: "What do you know about your uncle's work?"

"He didn't speak much about when he was _doing_ it, but once he had been, um, _forcibly retired_, he felt free to talk about it—if only because he knew no-one would believe him except his niece who was as fascinated by the topics as he was."

"What was the topic?"

"The Self."

Both Megatron and Sam blinked, baffled.

"What?" Sam asked.

"The Self. The Soul. The Spark that is inside every living being. He did research into that."

"That sounds more like philosophy than physics," Megatron said, managing to keep incredulity out of his voice.

The woman smiled faintly. "He stumbled upon it by accident, really. He was charged with figuring out ways to enhance American espionage—he worked on such things during the Cold War; up until its end, actually."

"How did that and his inquiry into the nature of the Self overlap?"

The woman hesitated, then sighed. "What's the harm? The project was scrapped anyway." She ran a hand through her hair and took a sip of now very cold coffee before continuing: "When doing espionage, there are little things that give someone away—a behavioral tic, looking slightly out of place, not speaking with the correct accent, etc. All these things can get a spy killed—or at least found out and interrogated, neither of which are desirable. So, my uncle thought that if he figured out the nature of the Self, he'd be able to make science fiction science _fact_."

"Meaning...?"

"He'd find a way to switch Selves, to switch consciousnesses between two bodies. However, because the body is so intimately tied to the Self, residual body-consciousness would affect the new consciousness of the proposed spy. In this way, the spy would be able to blend seamlessly into the ranks of those who were the enemy." She sighed and ran her fingers over the rim of the cup. "There were a number of problems with it, though—one being 'be careful you do not become what you fight against.' Occasionally, the residual personality in the body was strong enough that the spy became what he was supposed to be spying against—which created a great many complications."

"I'd bet," Sam murmured, that particular tidbit of information shedding light onto his own problem of how it was getting ridiculously hard to separate Sam and Shiftswtich. He occasionally found himself wondering if there even _was _a difference anymore.

"But overall effective," Megatron commented. "That can't have been the only reason his funding was cut."

The woman smiled sadly and shook her head slowly. "What's the use of an espionage weapon that you cannot undo?"

"C-can't undo?" Sam asked, a shiver of dread running through him. _She can't mean that. I can't be...I can't be stuck like this forever!_

The woman nodded and sloshed the coffee in her cup around, not really looking at them, lost in her thoughts. "Results were inconclusive when tested on animals, because while they may be said to have _personalities_, it's still up to debate whether or not they have Selves. This left only human testing as a viable way of testing the device he created. It _was_ successful in doing the Self-transfer, which my uncle was ecstatic about, and why his funding continued even though what he was dabbling in wasn't all that _ethical_."

She sighed and placed her cup down. "My uncle recorded there being a two-thousand pairs of tests done, and out of those those pairs, only one ever reversed. It was considered a statistical anomaly, for the reversal for that pair seemed almost..._random. _No-one could figure out what had reversed them—not even the pair themselves. All conditions were tested and theorized and explored, but there was never any definitive conclusion, and as they were the first pair to be tested, it was figured that it was a glitch in the machine that allowed the reversal. Not that anyone could ever figure out what the glitch _was._"

She folded and unfolded a napkin as she continued, "I'm responsible for keeping up with the test subjects, and the long-term results have varied. Some went crazy, unable to reconcile the residual personality and their own consciousness. The worst were those who became the opposite gender. If they couldn't adapt, many ended up killing themselves or in mental hospitals. Some fared better, and have gone on to live their lives, productive members of society. None of them returned to their former families, unable or unwilling to tell them why they were no longer who the family remembered. Even 'government testing' didn't fly in all cases."

"Are the...are the people who reversed able to be contacted?"

The woman shook her head. "Both people are dead..." the woman trailed off, obviously confused by something on either Sam or Megatron's faces. Her eyes widened as a thought apparently occurred to her, "Oh god, you found it, didn't you? Someone probably took it off the base and sold it as scrap or something, right? And you two got caught in it."

Sam rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Maybe," he drew out.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I wish there was something I could do to help you..."

"No, it's okay," Megatron said, his voice resigned. "You _have_ helped us."

"But—"

"Sometimes, it's best to know that there's no hope; that way you can plan for the future given your new circumstances," the former Decepticon finished morosely.

The woman looked between the two of them, obviously agitated by their defeatism. "Look, there's still the possibility that you'll find a way to reverse it, right? If those two..."

"Out of a two-thousand with no clear idea _why_? Best to assume otherwise," Sam said with a tight, wry smile. "Can I buy your coffee for you?"

They parted ways, Sam and Megatron going towards Sam's alt form, both quiet.

Sam was pretty sure that he was more miserable now than he had ever been before in his _entire_ _life_. Even more than when...no, no, he was pretty sure this was the most miserable he had been. Ever.

Afterall, it wasn't _every_ day that you're told that you're pretty much stuck in your enemy's body for the rest of your life. Megatron was sulking just as much as he was, but it was poor consolation.

There _did_ seem to be an out-clause, but it was so vague that Sam didn't even both considering it. It was really best to assume the worst.

"I need time to think," Megatron said once they got to the parking space, his voice pensive and soft. Sam caught his gaze before nodding slowly. "I know."

"Yeah...hey, can you get me to that park place?"  
"Central park? Sure," Sam replied and opened the passenger and driver-side doors, stepping in as Megatron slid in the other side.

Sam pulled away from his parking space and blended smoothly into traffic.

An Autobot signal pinged at the edges of his consciousness, making him sigh. He _really_ wasn't in the mood for a confrontation. When a Decepticon signal appeared as well, Sam snarled softly, making Megatron gave him a questioning look.

"There's a 'con and a 'bot nearby. It's...Arcee. The 'bot is Arcee, which makes sense, since she's the smallest of the 'bots, and therefore the most maneuverable in a city. The 'con..." Sam paused, "is more elusive."

"They tend to be," Megatron drawled. "That's no excuse for your ill will, though."

Sam sighed and rubbed his temple, one hand remaining on the steering wheel. "I just...remember what she was saying, about residual personality?"

Megatron blinked, then smiled faintly. "You're losing Sam, aren't you?"

Sam sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, I am." Sam leaned back in the seat, eyes looking unseeing at the roof of the car. "It's...who am I anymore?"

"Stop thinkin' so hard."

"Just...why is it so much easier for you to stay who you are?"

"Because _my_ personality is well-formed and set. I've had _eons_ to become who I am. You...you're what? 19? That's not even a blink of an eye in the cosmic time scale. Your personality as a human is constantly evolving, so I'm not surprised that you're shifting—ha—to fit the Decepticon framework while I'm still solidly Megatron."

Sam sighed and made a turn, heading towards Central Park. "I guess. Still..."

"The real question is...what do we do _now_?"

It was the question that was weighing heavily on Sam's mind as well, and both were silent until they reached the park. Sam pulled into a parking space and Megatron climbed out, taking his cell with him. "I'll call you if anything starts going down."

"If it's Cybertronian activity, I'll probably know from the giant robots frolicking around," Sam replied absently.

Megatron paused, blinked, and then burst out laughing. "Now _that's_ a mental image. _Frolicking_ 'cons and 'bots..." Megatron shook his head and closed the door, walking into the park, leaving Sam to his thoughts.

_So, what now?_ He pondered, allowing his holoform to become image-only. He had just been told he would basically be stuck in a mechanical body for the rest of his natural life—which was also a good question. What _would_ be the length of his natural life? Would he have the life-span of a Cybertronain? Or would he still have the life-span of a human?

_Hey, how _do_ these guys get old? Do they just...run down? Rust? Huh. _

Sam sighed let his gaze unfocus as he watched traffic.

_Well...the big question is: should I just give up? Become Shiftswitch and start figuring out how to live as a kinda-sorta-Decepticon...? I mean, I'm totally not meant for Megs' position and I don't want it. But...I don't entirely fit with the Decepticon mindset, and I sure as hell don't fall into the Autobot one. I mean, I _guess_ I could _try_. I just wonder if there's ever been any _documented_ defection. I mean, Jetfire said he did, but he still had a Decepticon marker._

Sam sighed. _How would I explain my appearance anyway? Or my past actions? What I did to get Megs back wasn't exactly Autobot-like._

Sam smiled wistfully and looked at his hands. _Just wish I could've kissed 'Kaela one more time. Hugged my parents. I'm gonna miss my humanity a _lot_. I mean, there's still apparently some hope that Megs and I can go back to being who we once were, but it seems like a long-shot, and since she couldn't tell us exactly what would make us revert..._

Sam watched as Arcee (well, one of her components) turned the corner and passed him, not even giving him a second glance. It took Sam a moment to realize that he had shut down his Spark-signature, which would explain the irritated look on her face.

The irritation was well-founded, though, considering he had yet to tell them his name, and had changed his appearance any number of times, so they couldn't tell if he even _had_ a base alt form. Sam waited until Arcee was far, far away before releasing the total damping of his signature with a soft sigh.

_I guess...I guess I could try to introduce myself to the bots, explain my situation..._

"SHIFTER!"

Sam looked up quickly and popped open his passenger-side door, closing it behind a heavily breathing Megatron, pulling away from the parking spot and changing into the ever-useful news van, reducing his signature again. "What happened?" he asked as Megatron looked apprehensively out the window.

"People recognized me. Ran across Arcee _and_ Bee..."

Sam winced. "Ouch."

"Yeah. They wouldn't take, 'no, I don't want to talk to you,' as an answer. They're still trying to figure out what you did to me to make me behave like I am."

Sam snorted and turned a corner. "That wouldn't cause you to bolt."

"Yeah, well...came across two of Soundwave's casseticons, who were doubtlessly in contact with their master. _Then_ I also saw Barricade—still hasn't gotten rid of the whole 'punish and enslave' thing, though it's much more discrete. He always was rather vain..."

"And the combination of Autobot plus Decepticon made things rather tense."

"Um, yeah. The fact that they were both focused on me was bad. Although I think they were more interested in using me to trace _you_."

Sam winced. "Yeesh."

"Don't just _sit_ here, get _moving_!"

"Alright, alright...oh. This is bad," Sam said as he turned a corner to find Barricade and Bee in a face-off, Bee going his best to keep there from being collateral damage. "Going the other way," Sam said softly and performed a remarkable feat of dexterity by making a more-or-less U-turn in the middle of a road that was now busy being demolished by fighting robots.

"You're running away?" Megatron said, obviously unhappy with Sam's choice of action.

"Hey, those who run away live to fight another day, and as I'm a better spy than warrior, I think getting my ass out of here is a better ide—ah. This is even worse."

Megatron nodded slowly, eyes wide. "Yeah. Just a little."

There was no-way to escape this time, no place to run.

Bee and Barricade behind him. Prowl and a duo Switch's processor identified as Runabout and Runamuck before him. Buildings on all sides, nowhere to hide, not enough room to transform into something aerial.

"Well, fuck me sideways," Sam muttered.

"I don't think he's alive anymore, sorry."

"NOW IS _NOT_ THE TIME TO BE MAKING SNARKY COMMENTS," Sam snarled.

Megatron put his hands up in mock surrender. "No, now is the time for action, you're right. So stop being indecisive and start _doing_," Megatron said softly, a tone of command creeping into his voice that made Sam pause and consider _why_ so many Cybertronians chose to follow him.

But that was pondering for a rainy day, one that wasn't raining chunks of buildings.

Sam took a shuddering breath before saying, "Get out," and opened the passenger side door. Megatron stepped out and Sam took a deep breath.

Did he want speed or firepower?

That was a stupid question—speed, definitely. Still...he was about to try something that was probably incredibly inadvisable, but, hey, he'd done stupid things before and survived. Why should now be any different?

Sam took a deep breath and shifted to bi-pedal form.

Firepower was unnecessary, just enough to make sure he could get away. He needed to be streamlined, efficient, small. _Fast_.

A special skill pinged in his processor, a remnant of the schematics of an Autobot named Mirage presenting themselves. He turned it over quickly and forced it into what he desired before looking over to Megatron, who was unabashedly staring at him.

"You know, what? I don't want to know," he muttered as Switch extended his hand for Megatron to step on.

"We're going to go very fast, Megs; hold on tight." Switch took a deep breath before starting to move, turning towards where he had remembered Bee and Barricade fighting.

The two were still going at it, but Switch was smaller than either of them, and was able to dodge around the fallen debris, Megatron held close against his chest plate, protected from the bite of wind rushing past them far too quickly. He activated the modified skill, throwing a semi-invisibility over him—in truth, it was just the projection of the area around him molding to his form. There was still displaced matter which might give him away, and he wouldn't be able to hold it for long—perhaps thirty seconds at most. _That_ was why he had to go fast.

Sam dodged a shot from Bee (barely) and slid underneath a punch from Barricade, neither knowing he was there until his invisibility flickered away just a few yards away from them. His appearance surprised them enough that he was allowed to get two blocks away by the time they recovered.

He snarled when he ran into Arcee's trio, but kept on going, pushing his speed limit, flying past them, although they weren't too far behind, their own build allowing them to nearly match his pace. Switch was forced to dodge some fire, pushing his agility.

If Sam was still human, his breathing would be gasping and labored, he pushing himself far beyond reasonable levels. He had developed his build for speed, but the armor—because it was light—was starting to overheat at the strain.

He yelled in surprise when Prowl was thrown into a building across from him, sending him spinning into one himself from the abrupt shift in momentum, his claws wrapping carefully around Megatron, keeping the human from getting hurt. He dragged himself to his feet and had to duck an attack from Runabout, forcing an acceleration that pushed at least one g, barley outstripping the Decepticon, letting Arcee deal with the 'cons.

All that mattered was that he escaped. All that mattered was that Megatron stayed safe. He _needed_ the former 'con...if only because he was the only one who could understand him...and what if they _did_ manage to find a way to reverse the effects?

Switch yelled in pain when one of his tires blew out, causing him to trip and fall, he still holding onto Megatron, protecting him from any damage. Switch whimpered in pain as he sat up, his claws opening to show a frazzled, flushed Megatron, who was inexplicably grinning. "Can we do that again?"

Switch laughed tightly. "Maybe later."

Switch pushed himself to his feet before yelling in pain as he was shot into the building behind him, Megatron staggering in his grasp, clinging to his claws. Using the weapon on his good arm, he threw up a blinding, stinging smoke that would hinder any non-organic from both inability to see or move from the mild paralyzing agent in it. Sam staggered up and started limping away, looking for a place to hide, a place to recover. He was sent tumbling forward from a shot to his back, his hands closing instinctively and pulling Megatron to him to keep him from being injured.

This time, the shot had caught him in the side, destroying the mobility in his left leg (which had been the uninjured one). He rolled onto his back, his claws opening to allow Megatron to climb out. Doing so would also allow him to see whomever decided to kill him, whether it be Decepticon or Autobot (as well as allowing Megatron to escape).

"Go," Sam warbled. He hadn't been in this much pain since he died.

Megatron stood on his chest plates for a moment, looking at him with an unreadable expression. "You'll die."

"Prob'ly."

"I'll be stuck this way."

"Yeah."

The two heard heavy, running steps, and it was Prowl who rounded the corner, making Switch sigh and turn off his optics. At least he knew whose hand he would die by. He had nothing offensive on him, and from all the energon leaking out of his side and the damage done to his legs and wheels, he couldn't run any longer.

_This_ was why he had always run. Why he had always avoided conflict. He was no warrior.

And now he was going to die.

"Move, Sam!" Prowl half-snarled, and Switch heard a gun charging. As a final act of defiance, Switch pulled his face-plates into a sneer, just to show he wasn't scared—even though he was terrified.

_Never show weakness in the face of the enemy._

Then, Megatron said something Sam would have never expected: "No."

Switch's optics flickered on, and he looked at the Decepticon-turned-human standing defiantly on top of his chest-plates in something akin to pure astonishment.

"Sam, he's a _Decepticon_. He's your enemy!"

"Has he hurt me? No. Has he hurt you, save in self-defense? No. Did he even hurt those he traded for me? No! He may be a Decepticon, but he's not _my_ enemy!"

The last thing Sam had _ever_ imagine would be Megatron standing up for him.

Apparently, it was the last thing Prowl expected either, as the Autobot looked as baffled as any Sam had seen. It appeared that Prowl was about to say something when Barricade came around the corner, Bee hot on his heels.

Prowl's attention was drawn away from Switch, Megatron jumping off of the 'cons chest piece to hide under the hollow created by the curve of Switch's back.

"Megs," Sam whispered. "Why?"

There was a hesitation before Megatron answered: "You could have discarded me at any time. Doing so would have probably saved you damage and prevented what you're dealing with now. But...you didn't. So, _my_ turn—why?"

Switch hesitated. "It never crossed my mind. I need you. For confirmation and because...there's always hope. _I_ don't mind being Cybetronian, but I know _you_ mind being human, so..."

Megatron started laughing. "I can't believe you. Even as a 'con, you're still very much human."

Switch smiled faintly. "I guess."

Megatron chuckled again, and patted Switch's body almost _affectionately._

The injuries caused by the battle slowly put him under, leaving him entirely vulnerable to whatever may happen.


	5. Discussions

**Author**: I love y'all, just putting that out there. ^_^ Thank you to everyone who reads, reviews, favorites, alerts, etc. You make my day. Pardon the copious amounts of dialogue in this chapter.

**Disclaimer**: Not mine. Although I really, _really_ wish it was.

---

"Switch. Switch. Shiftswitch, you fucking dumbass, wake the hell up!"

Switch's optics flickered on, his field of view immediately focusing on the face of a familiar human. The rest of the surroundings, however, were entirely unfamiliar.

"What the fuck d'you want?" he responded irritably. "I was having a good dream."

"Like hell you were."

"Whatever. Where am I?"

"You, my dear 'con, are in an abandoned building, recovering from your numerous battle wounds."

"Alone?"

"Well, Bee is parked outside the door, to make sure that you don't get up to any funny business."

Switch snorted. "Uh-huh. Whatever, M—"

"Sam."

Switch's optics shuttered for a moment before a smile formed on his face. "Sam. Want help?"

"I'll need it. This whole thing's kinda new to me."

"Um, _duh_."

Sam snickered and lightly smacked Switch's plating. "Cocky sunuvabitch. Being a 'con suits you sometimes."

Switch chuckled softly and gently poked at Sam's chest with his claw, making the human stagger back slightly and growl, although there was a smirk that flickered across his face. "You think I should stay a 'con?" Switch asked.

"I think you should do what y' want. You're obviously not _really_ meant for the 'bots, but you're not entirely 'con material either," Sam said with a shrug.

"Wow, that was helpful," Switch drawled, making the human snort.

"Shut it, pest."

"Fuck you, squishy."

The two shared a smirk.

"You gonna help me escape?" Switch asked, dropping his voice so Sam could just _barely_ hear.

The human's smirk turned into a grin. "What d'you think? Can't do it until your lower body's back in working order, though."

Switch ran a quick diagnostic before sighing. "Wow. Worse than I thought."

"Hey, that's how you chose to build yourself. By the way, how _did_ you do that?"

"Do what?" Switch asked innocently.

Megatron rolled his eyes. "Make a composite form. I recognized a lot of different contributions from different mechs...some of which you haven't met. That invisibility thing was all Mirage."

"Well, he _was_ nomed, so..."

"You got it from _that_? Jesus, you're more resourceful than I thought."

"Hey, you'll see. You'll become _real_ resourceful _real_ fast just because of how your life is."

"Joy and rapture," Megatron drawled unhappily.

Switch snickered before a thought occurred to him. "Think we should tell them?"

"Why bother? Not like they'll believe us."

"Point," the 'con conceded. "Think they'll ever figure it out?"

Megatron paused. "Prowl and Prime are smart. It'll take me some time to get this whole thing down. Bee might be the first, though, since he knows about...stuff," Megatron finished lamely, gesturing vaguely.

Switch started to nod, but his neck screamed in pain when he tried, making him hiss.

"Ah, right. Moving not so good an idea right now. They've got most of you disabled. They were surprised at how little weaponry they had on you." Megatron cocked his head before asking, "Why _did_ you have so little?"

"Weaponry is _heavy_. I wanted fast and light. So, enough to be distracting, but nothing damaging."

"More flight than fight, huh. Typical of you."

Switch rolled his optics. "Whatever. Are they actually _helping_ me?"

"Once I plead your case enough. They're subjecting _me_ to testing, too, y'know, because of that. You better be grateful, damnit."

"A '_con_? Grateful? What the fuck are you _thinking_?"

Sam laughed and shook his head. "Just _zen_, Shiftswitch. By the way, you never did answer my question."

"What question was that?"

"Don't play dumb, you stupid bucket of bolts."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, fleshbag."

"Your composite form."

"Look, I _wanted_ to do it, so I did. It's kinda like my range on my holoform. I don't have any preconceived idea of my limitations, so I can bend the rules—a lot."

Megatron snorted and shook his head. "Impossible 'con. Think you could do that for any specialization?"

"You mean, could I devise a composite that would give me more weaponry than you can shake a stick at? Well, yeah, but I wouldn't be dexterous. I could be heavily armored but have no stamina. It's all trade-offs. Doing that has also left me, well, _exhausted_. I feel like I could go back into recharge at any second. So, the question is this—is the advantage in battle enough that I can spend the next two days out of commission?"

Megatron nodded slowly. "Point. Your quick-shifts also leave you tired. I've never come across a mech who sleeps as deeply or as much as you do."

"Hey, can't be awesome all the time."

"Rather full of yourself, aren't you?"  
"No more than you are."

Megatron snorted and smirked wryly. "Well. I'm sure the 'bots have questions for you, now that you're awake. Have fun answering them," he finished sweetly before climbing off of his chest.

The human formerly known as the Decepticon leader Megatron left the room the Decepticon previously known as Samuel James Witwicky was lying in, causing said 'con to sigh.

Switch stared up at the marked and dirty ceiling, testing his mobility.

His body was sore, dented, and broken in more than a few places. There had obviously been quick field-medicine done on him, but it wasn't anything permanent. It'd take some time for him to heal entirely, even with a medic's help...and he wasn't entirely sure Ratchet would do as thorough a job on a 'con as on a 'bot—one less enemy that way, right? Still...he had a way to speed up the healing himself than waiting around for his natural repair system or an outside healer. Switch closed his eyes and shucked his composite form for a SUV he had picked up, which had a completely different build.

There were grinds and dings that _hurt_ before releasing in a burst of relief that the damage had been allocated elsewhere and spread out into a much larger frame.

The noise of the shift caused the doors to open quickly, Bee and Prowl coming charging in.

"Fucking paranoid 'bots," Switch attempted to sneer, but the tight pain in his voice ruined the effect. "Don't want to spend too much time with y'all than necessary."

Prowl's countenance darkened. "If you're well enough to taunt us, you're well enough to answer questions."

"Whatever you want, Prowler."

The nickname that Switch had picked up out the remnants of Jazz's spark made the Autobot stiffen in obvious anger, making Switch grin. "Oh, have I hit a sore spot?" Switch purred.

Gods, it was fun watching the Autobot's reactions, especially since all previous data said that Prowl was cool, collected, and logical—except when it came to his mate. Which made the provocation far, far too much fun.

Bee put a hand on Prowl's arm, just barely keeping him from springing on Switch and tearing him apart—although it was obvious that Bee was doing it only reluctantly, probably under orders.

"Slaggin' 'con," Prowl snarled and whirled around, stalking out of the room.

Bee told him in no uncertain terms what he thought of Shiftswitch before following Prowl out.

"It's a skill!" Switch yelled as the Autobot left.

Then he was alone again.

Switch sighed softly, turning his optics off. Even though the switch—ha—in forms had substantially reduced the overall severity of damage done, he was still hurt and exhausted. Switch let himself slip into blissful recharge, processor sluggish from exhaustion.

He was woken by the door opening and brought himself back to alertness quickly. It was Prowl...and Prime. There was a brief spike of utter loathing at being so _vulnerable_ to Prime, and so he forced himself into a sitting position, watching Prime carefully with guarded, now-visored eyes (courtesy of his newest alt-form).

"Optimus Prime," he acknowledged, nodding slightly, back straight, even though the proud posture _hurt_.

"Your name is Shiftswitch," the Prime said, more a statement than a question.

Switch nodded. "You heard from Sam?"

Optimus nodded slightly. "We have some questions for you."

"I'm at your disposal," Switch drawled, gesturing to his incapacitated lower body.

"Where did you come from?"

"Where do you _think_?" Switch replied irritably. "No new Cybertronians can be made now that the All Spark is gone—therefore, there is only one place I could have come from."

"Then you were here before we arrived?"

"You could say that," Switch said dryly. Because it was true in so many ways.

"How, when, and why did you take Sam?"

Switch sighed. "It's complicated."

"Answer the question," Prowl said flatly.

Switch paused, trying to find a way to explain a rather complicated situation. "Sam and I met at an abandoned Air Force base. I took Sam because I needed him. It wasn't all that difficult to do, _obviously_."

"What do you need him for?"

"_Needed_, past tense. I no longer need him." Which was a lie, but, hey, they didn't need to know that.

"What did you do to him to make him go with you willingly?"

Switch shrugged. "I did nothing. He needed me as much as I needed him."

"For what reason?"

"Because of what happened at the base."

"And what _did_ happen at the base?"

"It's not your business."

"If it influences Sam, it _is_ our business."

"No ill has come of it. In fact, you could say that it has..._broadened our horizons._ I don't find fleshlings so intolerable anymore, and Sam has discovered that sometimes, all that Decepticons do is deceive."

"That brings up another question—why _haven't_ you killed any humans or Autobots? Why haven't you revealed yourself until now?"

Switch shrugged. "Why bother? With the All-Spark gone, all that is driving the war is a grudge and UST. Humans are more fun to manipulate than kill. I'm not _motivated_ or _skilled_ enough to kill. You saw how quickly I fell once I was cornered. And who says that I _haven't_ been out and about and you lot just haven't noticed?"

"How did you mimic Jazz so completely?" Prowl demanded.

"I'm just special," Switch replied sweetly.

Prowl's countenance darkened, which made Switch smile languidly.

Prime let out a silent sigh. "Do you know what happened to Megatron?"

"Yes," Switch affirmed, but before the 'bots could follow up the question, he continued with, "but I'm not telling you," in a sing-song croon.

"Why?"  
"Why not?"

The questioning continued for another half-hour, Switch enjoying using circular logic and evasion when answering the Prime and his SIC. He knew that _they_ knew that he was lying, since his answers tended to be inconsistent with each other—which was the point, really. Perhaps one was the truth. Perhaps they all were truthful to some degree. Maybe they were all lies. Who knew, save Switch?

His illogic was obviously wearing on Prowl, to the point where Prime had to send his SIC out before Switch broke him—literally and figuratively. He and Prime fell into an uneasy silence, the two of them regarding each other without expression.

"Just _who_ are you?" Optimus asked quietly.

"Shiftswitch. I thought we established this," the 'con said irritably.

Prime's shoulders slumped. "No, you're not. Who _you_ are has something to do with who _Sam_ has become."

"What makes you say that?" Switch asked, curious.

"How you behave and how Sam behaves are linked, and it's from more than just spending time with each other. I _know_ every Cybertronian that exists—and I have never heard of you before. So, either you were somehow made without the All Spark, or have something to do with Megatron's disappearance and Sam's alteration."

Switch made a 'hm' sound, tilting his head as he regarded the Prime. "Maybe. Maybe not."

"Please. Just answer the question."

"Well, since you asked so _nicely_...I will decline equally nicely. No, thank you."

Prime sighed softly. "What's your base alt form?"

"I have none."

"You _have_ to have a remembered Cybertronian form."

"I erased it," he lied, "in order to make room for other alt forms." He still had Megatron's Cybertronian form tucked away, initially out of a kind of warped respect for the Decepticon leader, and now as a scare tactic that might let him escape while others recover from the brief reappearance of the Cybertronian.

There was a pensive silence before Optimus spoke again: "Your choice of alt forms are...peculiar. Most Cybertronians will choose something flashy—myself included—to use. And yet, in order to hide from us, you knew to cycle between all types of vehicles—even things like human garbage trucks. You have _experience_ with this place. More than any Cybertronian should in 3 years of actively being here."

Switch blinked. _Wow_. "So what?" he replied archly. "We've established that I was here before you all arrived—surely I would have had to learn a few tricks to be able to exist without being found out. Anyway, what most Cybertronians see as appropriate alt forms I know to stand out, and considering that a being with my temperament doesn't necessarily _want_ to stand out..."

Prime sighed. "Nonetheless, there are other behaviors that speak of you being more than just what you claim. Being able to retrieve Annabelle indicates that you understood how human security and physiology works, especially since you chose to amuse, rather than sedate, the young child—other Decepticons would have let her die, if she couldn't handle the dose of general sedative you were administering. In being able to deceive the Witwickys and Mr. Bane, you displayed a good deal of prior knowledge of human behavior—even more so, you knew a great deal of _Sam's_ behavior. Something that you could not have gotten from just being around Sam for a few days."

"So? Again, I've been here longer than just 3 years—I've had time to observe. To learn. A car driving itself around without a driver will draw attention, so in order to avoid being suspect, I had to learn how humanity _works._ Again, I'm no warrior—these things were _necessary_ for my survival," Switch replied, hiding his amazement and unease. _Perhaps he's a Prime for a reason..._

"Don't be obstinate. Sam's an awful liar, and yet he managed to convince everyone save me that he is who he claims to be. When I had an identical conversation to this one with him, he acted just as evasive. You two are connected."

_Well, shit._

It was at then that Switch decided that silence was the best policy.

So he simply smiled.

Optimus sighed. "That's all I'm going to get from you, isn't it?"

Switch shrugged.

"Very well. Just remember that I'm the one who can set you free...or keep you captive for the rest of your existence."

Switch sneered. "You wouldn't do that without a reason more important than I'm not answering your questions. I have no actions for which you can imprison me on."

"How do _you_ know that? If we've never met, and if you're a Decepticon, how can you know for sure, having been underneath Megatron's command all your life—since you are obviously young."

Switch shifted and Sam sighed. "Why does it matter? What is cannot be undone."

"So something made you who you are?"

"_All_ creatures are made."

"You twist my words."

"I'm a '_con_," Switch replied dryly. "Of course I do."

A smaller door opened and Sam walked in, looking concerned. "Hey, Optimus. People were wonderin' about what was taking you so long."

Switch wanted to do nothing more than smack his forehead in exasperation. It appeared that Megatron—Sam—had inherited his bad timing and luck.

"Actually, I am glad to see you, Sam. Come here."

Sam approached carefully, stopping a distance away from Optimus so he didn't have to crane his head too far back. "Yeah?"

"I would like the truth, Sam."

Sam blinked and frowned. "I _have_ told you the truth."

"No, you haven't," Prime asserted. "Normally, I would not press, but as it involves you, Sam, I feel that it would be best to know what happened..." Prime looked between the Decepticon and human, eyes briefly holding theirs before he began to speak again: "When Sam was attacked at the warehouse, it was by Megatron along with a few of his minions. By the time we had driven the lower-rung Decepticons away, both Sam and Megatron were gone. The next time we find Sam, he is in the company of an unknown Decepticon that sounds—and, in a very faint way, _feels—_like Megatron. The personality of this particular Decepticon, however...is different. When we finally _retrieve_ Sam, the act is impeccable, but obviously an act when examined closely enough. Admittedly, no-one by myself and Bumblebee noticed that something was..._off_...but it was undeniable."

Sam and Megatron's eyes met briefly before they both turned to Optimus, serious and sober.

"So?" Switch challenged. "What's your point? Everything changes. I could have been projecting Megatron's spark-signature to make you all uneasy. You've seen that I can do Jazz's—why not _his_?"

"I won't _always_ remain the same Sam—experiences alter how people behave," Megatron chipped in.

Prime sighed softly. "You two certainly work well together—that only makes me more certain I'm correct in my belief that something has connected you two to each other in a fashion."

Switch snorted and shook his head as Sam frowned.

"Listen—" Switch started, but was cut short by Optimus holding up a hand to stop him, the 'con obeying because of the air of command that seemed to surround the Prime.

"Hear me out. I will tell you what I think happened."

Sam and Megatron briefly shared a look before nodding. "Fine."

"When at the Air Force base where we were to pick Sam up—a place we thought was a secure location—we got separated from the young man. Megatron chased after him, for revenge or his own purposes is something I will never be able to guess. We lose track of Sam, eventually seeing Megatron retreat from within the base itself. Ratchet detected an odd heat signature, but it was indistinct and Megatron was moving too fast for us to get a good lock on him."

Prime took a breath before continuing: "Sam is nowhere to be found in the base. We search for him in the surrounding areas, but are unable to locate him. We put out a search for him, alerting the Autobots that are in other places in the country. We then, inexplicably, pick up the signal of a Decepticon that none of us have ever felt before—one that feels strangely of the Decepticon leader, but muted and mixed, somehow, with another signature. We trace it to Denver, where we attempt to capture it—only to have it get away in the most spectacular of fashions, performing an alt-form shift in mid-fall, which is an ability none of us have ever come across before...although I happened to know of one mech who was able to store more than one alt form in his processor...not that he had ever told anyone save myself.

"Now, I have become curious—any Cybertronian with that power would have been in high demand, sought after by both Decepticons and Autobots, and yet I knew this particular Decepticon not. We eventually find him again, _helping humans._ He appears to have no compunctions about using them for his own ends, but an inflection, a gesture, tells _me_ our new Decepticon is bluffing. His interactions with a human who approaches and reproaches him tells me that the Decepticon—and, for that matter, the human—are more than they appear to be.

"When we next find you two in Santa Cruz, I am certain that you two know each other more than initially thought, and when I finally get confirmation that the human is Sam Witwicky...it worries, confuses, and intrigues me. That he seems to be willingly, even _happily,_ traveling with our unnamed Decepticon tells me that more is going on than can be seen on the surface.

"We eventually retrieve Sam from a motel, and he initially seems almost _sulky_ at being caught, but the emotion is quickly buried and he falls into what most would recognize as Sam's speech patterning, gestures, and general personality. There are, however, brief ticks, moments where he pauses, almost as if having to _think_ about how to react to a situation. They are infrequent and nearly imperceptibly short, but _are_ there. Not enough to concern the humans or most Cybertronians, but Bumblebee notices, as do I.

"Then, you contact us with a situation most Decepticons would never consider—you have hostages that are not only alive, but unharmed. You follow through on your promise, returning everyone with only minor dehydration and an unpleasant smell because of not having been washed for a few days. All for Sam. You _knew_ who was important, to both the Autobots and to their human allies. Most Decepticons would not have been so selective. Your choice of base holoform is also indicative that you are not like most Decepticons. You have a _corporeal_ form, one that mimics every aspect of a human body nearly flawlessly. You chose an appearance that most would overlook, with appropriate clothing. You seem to _care_ about humans, which is rare for a Decepticon, even if you two may insult each other on the basis of your make-up.

"You are _obviously_ looking for something, but you never hurt or threaten any human when doing so. You deceive and manipulate, but never resort to violence to get what you desire. The human traveling with you also seems to almost _enjoy_ your company, and occasionally acts more like a Decepticon than the Decepticon does.

"Then there comes New York City. Instead of fighting and using human shields and causing wonton destruction, the Decepticon not only chooses to run, but chooses to protect the human that has been traveling with him, to the point of foregoing escape on his own in order to preserve the life of his organic companion. And then, to our surprise, the human stands up and demands that the _Decepticon_ who had been assumed to be holding him hostage be spared. Some have put forth Stockholm Syndrome, but I feel that isn't the case.

"In the Decepticon, I see shadows of a human, and in the human I see flashes of Decepticon. From how you two behaved towards each other and to other people, and from who we discovered you were searching for, I believe that I've discovered that the reason I see a human in a Decepticon and a Decepticon in a human is because _that is exactly what has happened._ I have _no_ idea how it happened, but here's my conclusion—somehow, Megatron has ended up in Sam's body and the reverse has happened to Sam."

"That's not _possible,_" Megatron accused.

"Nothing is impossible in this universe," Optimus insisted.

Megatron gave the Prime a sizing look. "What if it _is_ true? What if we _have_ switched bodies? What will you do about it?"

"I would find a way to reverse it," Optimus replied.

"We've _looked_," Sam murmured wearily. "We've traced _everything_ to its conclusion."

Megatron gave Sam a glare, who shrugged in defeat. He felt there was no point to continuing to lie. Not when Prime had taken all the tiny pieces of inconsistencies and put them together into a coherent whole.

"What do you mean?" Optimus asked, curious.

"We've looked for a way to reverse this—neither of us wanted to be stuck like this; however, it appears that there is no way to reverse it...and the only pair who _did _achieve reversal are _dead_," Sam answered with a sigh.

"So, we've accepted and moved on. I'm becoming human, he's becoming a 'con," Megatron said shortly.

Optimus's optics moved to Megatron. "Will you answer my question honestly?"

"My dear Prime, I was a 'con for much longer than I've been human. You tell me."

Optimus's lips quirked up in a small smile. "That's answer enough."

Megatron frowned and Sam snickered.  
"You're sure that you've exhausted all your options."

"Positive," Megatron and Sam answered in synch, causing them to share an amused look.

Optimus was silent for a long moment before saying, "And Sam—the original—you are sure that you wish to remain a Decepticon?"

Sam shrugged. "I'm...not sure. I mean, I've _been_ a 'con and it feels _right_." Sam paused before a smirk formed on his face. "And I can _remain_ a 'con...but work for _you_. You've seen that I make an ideal spy—Megs thinks so, too—and..."

"Megs?" Optimus parroted, giving the former Decepticon an amused look.

Megatron gave Sam a glare. "Fuck you."

"You're a little too small and not my type," Sam replied sweetly.

Megatron sneered, "Don't give yourself so much credit."

Both Megatron and Sam were surprised when Optimus made an odd sound that made Megatron and Sam give him equally incredulous looks as the Prime took a moment to compose himself.

"O...kay..." Megatron drawled.

"Perhaps this was the best thing that ever happened to you, _Megs_," Optimus said, a unidentifiable emotion in his voice.

Megatron whirled on Sam, his gaze promising murder. "You have _ruined_ my reputation."

"Deal with it, fucktard," Sam replied with a toothy grin.

"You forget that I know where all your _really_ delicate bits are, and can make you _suffer_."

"Try it."

"Don't tempt me, asshat."

Optimus actually _laughed_, causing Megatron's eyebrows to rise to his hairline as Sam's jaw dropped. Sam had _never_ heard Optimus laughed—he hadn't thought that the mech knew _how_.

"I'm glad you find my suffering amusing," Megatron said dryly.

"It's not that," Optimus said, warmth in his voice. "It's that you've _relaxed_. I can see who you once were returning."

Megatron blinked. "Whatevs," he said, hiding confusion under hostility.

"Perhaps it is best that you don't try to be _entirely_ Sam," Optimus said thoughtfully. "I'm just wondering how to break it to others that Sam isn't...who he used to be." Optimus also looked at Sam. "Explaining Shiftswitch will be a little easier...but not by much."

Sam sighed and slumped, resting his elbows on his thighs. "I know, I know. Thing is, for the most part, Sam _is_ Shiftswitch. It'd be hard to go back to being human. I'm not sure if I ever _would_."

Megatron nodded sagely, crossing his arms across his chest. "I...I've kinda adapted, too. It's still _weird_ and _annoying_ and I continue to harbor a general hatred for the majority of humanity, but..." Megatron shrugged helplessly.

Sam smiled faintly. "So, long story short, we've adapted. Megatron will become Samuel James Witwicky and I will become Shiftswitch."

"You are sure?" Prime asked slowly.

Megatron nodded morosely. "Positive.

Sam was beginning to relax when a wave of nausea hit him, his head spinning.

He distantly saw Megatron teeter on his feet, too, and reached out, catching him before he hit the floor, the human bracing himself against Switch's hand.

He distantly heard Optimus ask something, concern in his voice, but darkness closed in on Switch, all his systems shutting down, sending him into a well of nothingness that was _terrifying_.

---

**Post-note:** THE END.

No, just kidding. There's one more chapter. But then we're done. Thank you for reading!


	6. and life goes on

**Author:** This is the last chapter. I will rant at the bottom. But first: Thank you to everyone who has or will read this for favoriting, alerting, reviewing, etc.

**Disclaimer**: Not mine.

---

Sam was idly watching the trees sway in the spring breeze through the window, almost hypnotized by their movement, having a very hard time concentrating on what the professor was saying. The fact that it was also the last day of classes made it doubly hard to care about what was being taught (even though it was going to be on the final). He felt himself beginning to nod off when the class ended, Leo elbowing him awake.

Sam looked at him blearily before a grin spread across his face. "Done?" he asked.

"Done," Leo repeated with an identical grin.

Sam let out a soft, joyous whoop, throwing his books into his bag, leaving the lecture hall quickly, Leo hot on his heels. It wasn't that he hadn't enjoyed his class—it's just that enough was enough.

The air that kissed his skin when he broke out of the building was soft and warm, making him want to curl up underneath a tree and take a nap. His steps slowed as he basked in the springtime sun, Leo trotting off ahead of him with a wave.

Sam's light T-shirt fluttered against him, his mostly empty backpack thumping rhythmically in time with his steps. Everything was _green _and _alive _and it was a beautiful thing. Summer was still a distant dream, but winter had given up, landing them solidly in nice weather (when it wasn't raining, which was a _pain)_. Sam was enjoying every minute of it.

He meandered leisurely across campus, occasionally being dragged into a conversation with someone, whether for academic reasons or simply because Sam had become more outgoing and sought to actually make friends outside of giant alien robots was unimportant. He was trying hard to get the students and teachers at his college to look beyond the "hey, isn't that the kid who's friends with the aliens?" to who he actually _was._ It was surprisingly difficult—apparently first impressions stick.

_Especially when they are made by seeing me on the television_, he thought wryly.

It had been nearly half a year since everything had happened, and he now had some semblance of a life. While school had been dicey in the beginning, things had gradually settled down into a routine. He had needed to work hard to catch up (that the All-Spark shard occasionally burst to life and overloaded his brain with knowledge helped), but, all in all, things were going well. He was passing all his classes and enjoyed them for the most part.

The only truly depressing thing that had happened was that he and Mikaela had broken up, but perhaps it was better that way—afterall, they were still very good friends and spoke to each other on a regular basis. It was just that he had to concentrate on his studies, and she was being kept busy working as Ratchet's assistant, learning about Cybertronian mechanics.

_In more ways than one,_ Sam thought wryly. It was funny to think that everyone had expected him to fall for Bee and be the one to break the relationship, but the opposite had happened...with Mikaela and Ratchet.

Sam wished them well. It would be interesting, to say the least. He wasn't sure how it would _work_, but knew that Mikaela was stubborn enough to find a way (that Ratchet shared that trait meant that it would inevitably be an occasionally tempestuous relationship—good gossip fodder).

He came in sight of his dorm and his eyebrows rose slowly. There was a convertible parked out front of it, drawing envious gazes that flickered between it and Sam (since most people assumed that any kick-ass car that came to campus was now usually headed for Sam, regardless if that was the truth or not). It was understatedly luxurious and was a make that Sam was unfamiliar with. The top was down and Sam could just barely see a pair of shoes peeking over the steering wheel, heels resting on top of the mechanism.

Sam walked closer, and eventually got close enough to see the driver who was lounging in the vehicle. The driver could have passed as Sam's doppelganger, making Sam's eyebrows snap up, only the driver's clothes and visor-sunglasses setting him apart from the young man standing outside the car.

The driver's shades slipped down his nose to reveal red-brown eyes before the driver greeted, "Sam," his voice liquid and deep, more mature than his face and body suggested.

"What're _you_ doing here?" Sam asked, puzzled.

"You forgot, didn't you?" was the reply he received.

"Forgot wha..." Sam trailed off as his eyes widened in time with the driver's grin.

"Go get your stuff. I'll be waiting here."

Sam hurriedly entered the dorm and raced up the stairs, berating himself mentally. _The one thing you've been stressing about for _weeks_, and the day that you're to leave for it, you completely forget about it!_

He nearly tore his dorm room door off its hinges, surprising Leo and the others.  
"Yo, what's the rush?" his roommate asked as Sam dropped his backpack on the floor, rooting around under his bed for a bag he had packed and re-packed and re-re-packed a thousand times, just to make sure he didn't forget _anything_.

"Gotta be somewhere. Forgot all about it 'till now."

"Where?" Leo asked, curious.

Sam gave him a smug, secretive smile before saying, "Classified."

Leo groaned, but there was a laugh in his voice as Sam hefted the bag onto his shoulder.

"When'll you be back?" Sam's roommate asked.

"Dunno. Probably before my first final," Sam replied absently.

"Well, have fun at your top-secret government meeting," Leo said in a resigned voice as Sam grinned and bolted out of the room, bag weighing heavily against his shoulder as he moved quickly down the stairs, nearly bursting out of the dorm, surprising a few students.

The convertible's trunk popped open so that Sam could chuck his bag into it, and closed without prompting, just as the passenger door opened before Sam could get to it, and closed while Sam was busy buckling himself in.

The driver un-reclined his chair, settled into a sitting position, and waited until Sam had caught his breath to start driving.

"You needn't've rushed, y'know," the driver drawled, visor-sunglasses now covering his eyes. "You know I'll get you to the summit on time."

"Yeah, well, pardon my neuroses," Sam panted. He took a deep breath before speaking in a more normal tone: "What kind of car is this, anyway?"

"Alfa Romeo," the driver replied with a small smile, patting the steering wheel. "Passed it on the freeway."

"Huh. Never heard of it."

"Me neither, but I liked what I saw, so..."

Sam made a noise of understanding.

Silence briefly fell between them, the driver turning on the radio low to a heavy metal station. "How's life?" he asked over the muted screaming.

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair, a smile playing on his lips. "Going good, really. Today was the last day of classes, so I don't have to take a day more of that _fucking_ intro astronomy class. I'm _so_ glad I didn't have Professor Creeper this semester."

The driver snickered and turned away from the campus. "Uh-huh. Anything on the romance front?"

"No," Sam replied with a forlorn sigh. "But I _am_ getting to be quite popular."

"Oh gods, you're gathering _followers_ aren't you?"

"_Friends._"  
"Don't lie. _Minions_."

Sam waved it away, but a smirk briefly crossed his face. "Whatever. The weather's nice, so I've been doing a lot of my work outside, which is a _pleasure_ because sometimes the girls sun themselves as they study..."

The driver chuckled, a wistful smile playing across his face. "Damn, wish I coulda seen that."

Sam nodded, gaze briefly unfocused before he came back to himself, a goofy smile on his face. "_Anyway_," he said, "I've got more papers than finals, so that shouldn't be _too_ bad...although I really would prefer the tests. One three-hour period of torture and then it's _over_. Fucking papers drag out the agony."

The driver snickered. "Deal with it."

"Fuck you."

"Sorry, you're not my type."

"Yeah, that's because you—"

"Watch it, ladiesman. Remember who you're driving with."

Sam rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "Whatever you say," he drawled.

There was a comfortable silence before the driver spoke again: "You change your major?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. So I can do my diplomat stuff better."

"You just did it so you can take over the world easier."

"_Revolutionize_ the world, dipshit. Get it right."

The driver snickered and shook his head. "Whatever you say, fleshling."

Sam chuckled before a thought hit him: "Hey, how did _you_ get to be the one to pick me up?"

"I beat Optimus, Bumblebee, Ironhide, and Prowl at cards."

Sam gave the driver a dry look, which made him laugh.

"C'mon, tell me the truth," Sam said in a tone that was as dry as his look.

"You _honestly_ expect me to tell the truth?" the driver asked, cocking an eyebrow over his sunglasses.  
"To _me_, yeah."

The driver's lips quirked in a small smile. "Optimus asked me. Well, _told_ me, actually, and you know I don't have it in my heart to deny the Prime anything."

"He threatened to reveal who you really are unless you did what he wanted."

"Maybe," the driver crooned in a sing-song voice.

Sam shook his head and chuckled, leaning back in the seat. "Still...why?"

The driver sighed. "Because right now I register as a 'con, and as other 'cons are less likely to attack one of their own, regardless of in-fighting..."

"Mm. So, you've figured out how to alternate your spark-signature?"  
"Yup," the driver said happily, fingers tapping against the steering wheel in time to the bass guitar in the song playing on the radio. "Now I can be _just_ an Autobot instead of having to mimic one of the deceased...and being a 'con is my base, so that's never been a problem."

"Still, how _nice_ of you, worrying about me enough to actually _listen _to Optimus's orders."

The driver snorted and shook his friend. "Me? Worry about _you_? Seriously?"

Sam grinned and snickered, making the driver smirk.

"If you _really_ want to know my motivation behind picking you up, I had a few things I wanted to talk to you about."

Sam's mood sobered, he giving the driver a wary look. "What?"  
"Shockwave's arrived."

Sam jerked and stared. "What? _When_?"

"Not too long ago. I intercepted a transmission from Soundwave, who seems rather unhappy at the turn of events. It appears that, given two evils, he'd rather take Starscream."

Sam made a sound of comprehension. "They never _did_ get along, Soundwave and Shockwave."

"Funny for sharing part of a name."

"Hey, it could be something as superficial as that. I _told _you that Cybertronian names are important."

The driver snickered and shook his head. "I'm keeping careful watch on all Decepticon frequencies, and while a lot of it is mindless chatter, you'd be surprised with what you can catch."

"They'll be watching what they say a lot more now that Shockwave is around. Soundwave'll just file what they say away for later manipulation and black-mail, but Shockwave will take it, analyze it, and act on what his logic says is the best course of action."

The driver made a 'hm' sound, fingers playing across the steering wheel as he thought. "This'll make things interesting. How long do you think it'll take for them to discover just how many natural resources that are necessary for Cybertronian existence are hidden on this planet?"

"Wait, what?"

One of the driver's eyebrow cocked over the the edge of his sunglasses. "From what I've lifted from Preceptor and Starscream and my own travels, due to the presence of the All-Spark for _millennium_, the entire planet itself is one giant Cybertronian resource sink—it contains energon and metals necessary to build Cybertronian bodies to name two—just have to get rid of the pesky organics. But, Shockwave will do that in a heartbeat, if what you're saying of his personality is on target."

Sam scratched his scalp, sighing. "This makes things interesting."

"Another reason I'm picking you up. Wanted to tell you that...and ask you a question."

"Yeah?"

"You _are_ going to help humanity, right?" the driver asked, and Sam knew he was being stared at intensely even through the sunglasses.

Sam smiled and nodded. "Of course. Being who and what I am now, it'd be suicidal and stupid to do otherwise. You should've known the answer to that question, Shifter."

"Yeah, well, so sue me. You know I'm still invested in what happens to the inhabitants of this planet."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah. I do."

Shiftswitch relaxed back into his seat, one hand on the wheel before he said, "Hey, want to see if we can beat the speed cameras?"

"Mythbusters say you have to go over 300 mph."

Switch grinned. "That shouldn't be a problem."

The top to the convertible closed over them and solidified into metal, making Sam's lips spread in a smile. "You will account for the poor squishy in your cabin, right?"

Shiftswitch took off his sunglasses and vanished them into nothingness, giving Sam a cocky smile as his blood-red eyes sparkled in mischief. "Of course. When _haven't_ I taken care of my former body?"

Sam laughed as Shiftswitch accelerated, weaving around the other cars with reckless abandon, headed towards the multinational summit that would discuss the continued presence of both Autobots and Decepticons on the planet known by its inhabitants as "Earth."

~FIN~

**Post-note**: And that really _is_ the end.

In response to some queries: No, there will not be a sequel, as far as I know. Shiftswitch has retired (at least for the time being). But if you _really_ are in need of other reading, I've written a few other Transformers stories *hint hint*. I am overwhelmed by all the positive reviews and am flattered at how many people have favorited this story. Much love and many thanks.

I'm always open to story ideas, however. Right now Gaining Perspective and Daniel Masters are dragging their heels, so if anyone has something to jump-start the creative conduits... :D

Again, thank you for your readership!

~Ryuuko1


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